


Hey Jude

by saltyfirefly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Multi, Non-Explicit Sex, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Really Character Death, POV Multiple, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Self-Sacrifice, Winchester (Supernatural) Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 35,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21565657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyfirefly/pseuds/saltyfirefly
Summary: The Winchesters were never good at accepting the fate that they’d been given. They defied the odds at any turn, and damned the consequences that followed. When a mysterious figure suddenly appears and claims to be Dean’s future daughter, the Winchesters learn that changing fate and free will truly are part of the family business.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 49





	1. Hello, Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Hi...So this was the first fan fiction I ever wrote. It's canon-divergent after about 14.2-ish, because I wrote it in the hellatus between season 13 & 14 and also a little after 14.1. 
> 
> All chapter titles taken from Beatles songs. :)

_“I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello.”_

You would think, having lived a life so accustomed to the supernatural, that Sam Winchester would never be surprised when the next unbelievably crazy thing happens. But time and time again, there’s always something that knocks him flat on his ass—figuratively or literally. Just when he thinks he’s seen everything, something will inevitably pop out from around the corner and teach him a lesson. This is one of those nights.

Of course, it was too much to ask for his brother back, alive and whole. Sam expected Dean to be broken in one way or another when he was finally free of Michael. But to have Michael suddenly up and leave, with no apparent warning? It was too easy. Too strange. Too normal. Dean passed every test they could come up with. Castiel told them at least a dozen times that he couldn’t sense Michael’s presence, that it really was just Dean in there. Even weeks later, everyone still remained skeptical, until one night Dean finally growls that he’d had enough, dammit, and he needed some sleep.

The others leave Dean to himself, except for Castiel, who insists that he remain nearby in case Dean has a nightmare. Dean pronounces himself “too fucking tired to care” at that point, and Sam leaves his older brother already snoring, fully clothed minus his shoes on top of his bed, with Cas sitting stoic as ever in a chair next to Dean’s bed. Sam envies Dean’s ability to fall asleep so quickly, despite everything he’s been through. Maybe Cas did something to allow Dean to fall asleep so easily. Knowing that sleep won’t come easy for him, or at all, Sam retreats to the library to his stacks of research on archangels and their vessels.

Sam picks up a dusty tome and thumbs to the section on vessels post-possession, even though he’s probably read this one over half a dozen times by now. After a while, Sam catches himself re-reading the same lines over and over and over again. He feels his eyelids drooping heavily, and for one delicious moment he succumbs to the siren call of sleep.

Moments, or possibly hours later, Sam wakes with a start. It’s difficult to tell how much time has passed when you’re surrounded by artificial light in an underground bunker. Sam feels disoriented, aware that he dozed off but with no earthly idea of what woke him. It isn’t until he sees the sparks of electricity forming in the doorframe to the war room that Sam realizes that his subconscious senses snapped him awake, sensing an unknown possible danger that his sleeping body couldn’t comprehend.

The air seems to swirl and writhe before him, and a memory from many years before drags itself to the forefront of his mind. He and Dean were in yet another motel room, preparing to leave as they wrapped up a case. Sam was standing in front of the bathroom mirror when he saw—or maybe sensed—the reflection of the closet door moving behind him. He whirled around, catching a glimpse of Dean doing up the laces on one of his boots, before a well-dressed man fell out of the closet and demanded to know which of them was John Winchester. The air here, tonight in the bunker, has the same electric energy as it did in the motel room when Henry Winchester, Man of Letters, suddenly appeared out of a closet in front of his grandsons after time-traveling to the year 2013.

This time, however, there’s no door for the sudden figure to pop out of. Sam sees the shadowy outline of a humanoid figure, blurred against the staticky field, until the electricity in the bunker flickers and the mysterious figure fully materializes in the doorway of the library. It falls to its knees, appears to catch its breath, then raises its head up slowly.

“It worked,” the interloper says, voice barely above a whisper. They haven’t noticed Sam yet, but they gaze around the room as they straighten, appearing to recognize their surroundings.

“Holy mother of awesome,” they say, and then their eyes meet Sam’s.

Sam does a double take as his eyes take in the person before him. There’s something in that face that’s eerily familiar, yet also out of place. Familiar and unknown all in one go. Sam’s mind reels, heavily in denial, until the person before him speaks.

“Heya, Sammy.”

It doesn’t matter that the person who materialized before him is a young woman. It doesn’t matter that the hair is darker, and falls too long, and that her height is too short. The twinkle her eyes have now, when her lips curl into a smirk, is exactly the same as the one Sam grew up knowing. That expression, that tone of voice…they’re the same as Dean’s.


	2. I've Just Seen a Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What—how—why are you here?” he manages to croak out. 
> 
> Sam half-expects her to say that future Dean went on a hunting trip and hasn’t been home in a few days. But the look the girl returns him is deep and soulful, reminiscent of someone familiar but not quite Dean.

_“Falling, yes I am falling,_

_And she keeps calling_

_Me back again.”_

“Who the hell are you?” Sam practically roars, trying not to panic as his eyes search everywhere, anywhere, for a weapon, anything to defend himself against the unknown.

“Take it easy, Sam,” the young woman says in a calming tone, hands held in front of her like someone trying to calm a frightened animal. Or the way Dean once tried to ease a frightened Sam when he suddenly found himself in an abandoned warehouse, unsure of what was real or not and who was really Dean and not actually Lucifer.

“How do you know my name?” Sam demands.

“This is gonna sound really strange, but—you’re my uncle.”

“Your uncle?” Sam shoots back in disbelief.

“Yeah, you know. My father’s brother and all that,” she answers, and Sam swears that she was trying not to roll her eyes when she spoke.

“Your—what?”

“Uncle. Father’s brother,” she says, paused for a second, then adds, “I’m Dean’s kid. Not Adam’s, obviously.”

“Dean doesn’t—” Sam stops himself from saying _doesn’t have any kids_. Ben Braeden is still out there somewhere, and he was Dean’s kid once, biologically or no. And then there was the Amazon, but Dean never counted her. Instead of mentioning them, Sam settles for saying, “There’s no way in hell Dean has a kid that’s your age.”

The young woman chuckles. She looks to be maybe twenty, no more than twenty-five. Sam can’t tell for sure. Her face is devoid of the heavy makeup most women that age wear, and the spattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks stand out noticeably against the pale pink of her skin. Sam can’t tell if that makes her look older or younger than her real age, only that it makes her resemble a younger Dean more. But still, even if Dean did have a kid he doesn’t know about, there was no way that he had a kid when he was _that_ young. Dean would’ve been fourteen, or something. So this is impossible, right?

“No, or not now, anyway,” the woman says, in response to Sam’s statement. “But in the future? Yeah, he does.”

 _That_ revelation sets Sam back so far that he takes a literal step back. Part of his mind says that it’s inconceivable, but another part says that maybe it wasn’t. They’ve encountered time travel before. Hell, he and Dean were in a situation just like this once before, with Mary, when Anna went back in time to try and kill her and John before Sam and Dean could be born.

“Look, I know that this isn’t easy for you to wrap your head around, but I have proof.” The young woman hesitates, unsure of if Sam will let her provide her supposed proof or not. Sam nods once, his motion curt. He might be providing her the courtesy of allowing her to try and prove herself, but that doesn’t mean for a second that he will instantly believe her. Even if she does look so much like Dean did the day he came to get Sam at Stanford.

The young woman reaches a thumb inside the collar of her shirt (plaid flannel, under a worn leather jacket, Sam realizes with a pang), and withdraws the faded black cord of a necklace. The golden amulet on the string is a little worse for wear than when he last saw it, but Sam can clearly see that it’s the same one that he once gave Dean as a Christmas present.

“You gave this to my fa—to Dean when you were kids. He wore it until Castiel borrowed it, then he threw it away in a motel trash can after Joshua told you that you guys were on your own. And then a few years later, Chuck gave it back to him, when you were fighting the Darkness. Before I came here, my da— _Dean_ —gave it to me.”

“No,” Sam finds himself saying. “No effing way.”

“Look me in the eyes,” she returns, “and tell me that I’m lying.”

But he can’t. For some inexplicable reason, after taking one look into this young woman’s eyes, he knows that she’s telling the truth. Sam can’t ignore the feeling in his gut any longer, something deeper and more profound than just hunter’s intuition. This really is Dean’s kid. Holy shit.

“What—how—why are you here?” he manages to croak out.

Sam half-expects her to say that future Dean went on a hunting trip and hasn’t been home in a few days. But the look she returns him is deep and soulful, reminiscent of someone familiar but not quite Dean.

“I’m here to ensure that the future I’m from doesn’t happen.” When Sam still looks puzzled, she continues. “I’m here to make sure that I will never be born.”


	3. Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean twitches in his seat, incredibly uncomfortable. This all feels really, really weird to hear someone say. Especially someone who claims to be his kid, even if they really are from the future, even if they have his freaking amulet, even if they are immune to salt and holy water and iron and silver and don’t bleed black freaking goo.

_“Is there anybody going to listen to my story?_

_All about the girl who came to stay?”_

Dean sits, arms crossed, staring across one of the library tables at the young woman across from him, seated in between Mary and Jack. His kid? His daughter? No way. He thinks he must still be asleep, dreaming some weird-ass bizarro dream, until he looks over and catches Sam’s expression. Nope, this is definitely real. Cringe-worthily, uncomfortably real.

“So—” he starts to say, before realizing he has no clue what he will say next. Dean tries to cover the awkward pause by clearing his throat, but he still can’t think of what he’s supposed to say next.

“Why don’t we start with you telling us your name?” his mother says, in a soft, gentle voice, and Dean feels a rush of gratitude for her. Mary was always good at this. Despite her feelings that she wasn’t really a mom, and despite her amazingly awesome hunting skills, she sure as hell has some motherly instincts. Maybe it’s just intuition, Dean doesn’t know. Whatever it is seems to put the stranger before them at ease.

“I’m Jude,” she says.

“What, like the Beatles song?” Dean snorts.

“Yes, I suppose,” Jude says.

“You’re saying that you’re—that I named you after a song?” Dean says, with as much skepticism as possible to try and cover his discomfort.

“Well, no, not exactly,” Jude says pensively. “My full name is Mary Ellen Winchester. Sam suggested that I go by a nickname, to avoid confusion.”

“Oh,” is all Dean can bring himself to say.

“So…you know me, then? Or knew me?” Mary asks.

“Yes, for a time,” Jude says, a little sadly. Mary doesn’t ask what she means by that. It’s abundantly clear without being spoken. Whatever future Jude is supposedly from, Mary isn’t alive there anymore.

The expression on Mary’s face is both oddly pleased and somewhat sorrowful. “I used to sing ‘Hey Jude’ to Dean as a lullaby.”

Jude nods. “And he sang it to me.”

Dean twitches in his seat, incredibly uncomfortable. This all feels really, really weird to hear someone say. Especially someone who claims to be his kid, even if they really are from the future, even if they have his freaking amulet, even if they are immune to salt and holy water and iron and silver and don’t bleed black freaking goo.

Fortunately, Sam chooses this moment to clear his throat and cut right to the chase.

“You said you came back to prevent your future from happening. To change the past. Why is that?” he says.

“To ensure a future where I am never born,” Jude says, straightforwardly, with almost no emotion. Dean feels his tension ease, just slightly, at the way she says it. He definitely wouldn’t say it that way. But then why does her tone sound so damn familiar?

“Why would you do that?” Mary asks, concern in her voice.

“Because of the reason I was born. Or rather, made.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asks, a little harsher than he meant. What a weird freaking choice of words for someone to use.

“It’s a little difficult to explain.”

“Try.”

Jude pauses, furrowing her brows, unsure of what to say, until Cas speaks for the first time since they all sat down.

“Perhaps I could be of assistance.”

Jude meets Castiel’s gaze fully for the first time since she appeared. Blue eyes meet brown, and Jude can’t look away.

“You know who I am. What I am,” Cas says, voice gravelly but soothing. “Clearly you know a future version of myself.”

“Uh,” Jude clears her voice before continuing, “yeah, I do.”

“Do you trust the version of me that you know?”

“With my life,” she replies, without any sign of hesitation. Dean feels himself tense again as Jude echoes the words that Dean knows he’s said before at one point or another.

“Then can you trust me?” Castiel asks her. Jude nods.

Cas moves from the position where he stands behind Dean and rounds the table to where Jude is seated. She rises deliberately from her seat and turns to face him. Cas gently places two fingers on Jude’s forehead, just like Dean has seen Cas do to him, to Sammy, to any number of people a hundred times before.

Jude’s eyes close as Castiel peers into her mind, her face expressionless and unsurprised at the sensation. Clearly this is something that she’s experienced before. Cas furrows his brow, puzzled, and his eyes close for the briefest of moments before he jumps back from Jude, dropping his fingers almost as if he’s been scorched.

“How…how could someone do that to another person?” Castiel practically hisses, his face contorted in horror. “Even with their consent?”

“Which person?” Jude asks, with the slightest tilt of her head.

“You know who I mean. How could I—how could we—” Cas’s voice trails off, as if he can’t bare to continue the thought.

“It was her idea.”

“What could drive a person to want such a thing?” Cas asks, his expression changing from horror to a confused rage.

“You know what they say. Desperate times.” Jude shrugs.

“Okay, would one of you please explain what in the fucking hell you’re talking about?” Dean interrupts, irritated at being left out of the conversation. Cas appears utterly incapable of verbal response, or even looking at Dean, so Jude answers instead, never breaking eye contact with Castiel.

“He’s referring to my mother’s choice. The sacrifices she made.”

Dean feels his mouth go dry at the mention of Jude’s mother. Previously he only thought of how she was supposed to be his kid, his spawn. He didn’t think of who the woman must have been. Would be. Whatever. Dean hasn’t thought of a woman like that in what feels like eons. But of course, there must have been someone else, not just Dean.

“Who was your mother?” Sam asks gently, sensing that his brother is too much in shock to ask the question himself.

“Lisa Braeden.”

The way Jude says it, unflinchingly, without blinking an eye, but with such a heavy undertone, makes Dean’s stomach knot.

“Is she—was she—” he starts, but can’t finish the sentence.

“She’s dead,” Jude says quietly, looking at Dean again, but her expression is unreadable. He finds himself unable to respond, his mouth cottony and a lump in his throat.

“Not now, though,” Jude says, like she can sense Dean’s anguish. “As far as I know, she’s still alive. As is Ben.”

“You mean—Ben—?” Dean’s voice catches in his throat once more. Jude shakes her head slowly, confirming Dean’s longtime fear of a future dead Ben, the very reason he left him and Lisa to begin with.

Mary once again picks up the conversation. “I still don’t understand. Why would you want to stop yourself from being born?”

Jude pauses, considering, before answering. “Because I was created out of desperate circumstances. I was born to be a weapon.”

“A weapon?” Sam asks.

Jude turns to Castiel, as if for help, or approval, but the angel remains as he was, an almost inscrutable expression etched into his features. With no answer from Cas, Jude sets her shoulders squarely and made the decision for herself.

She turns to face the rest of them, closes her eyes, head dipped, for just a fraction of a second, and then raises her head with open eyes—eyes with irises that glow impossibly bright, gold and shining. The bunker’s lights flicker as the dark outline of a pair of wings unfold behind her. And then Jude blinks, and the moment is gone. She stands before them, unsettlingly human, despite what they just saw.

After a shocked pause from all around that could have lasted seconds, or maybe hours, Jack finally breaks the silence.

“You’re a nephilim,” he says, almost in awe. “Like me. Or like I was.”

“I see what you mean about a weapon,” Sam mutters.

Dean feels like he had been punched in the gut. If Lisa really was this nephilim’s mother…Dean understands the horrified look on Cas’ face after he read Jude’s mind. Kelly Kline didn’t survive Jack’s birth. And Jude said that where she came from, Lisa was dead. How fucked up was the future, if he knowingly put her in that position? Dean thinks he might be sick. But then his sense of logic returns to him.

“Okay, just hold on a second, okay? How the hell are you supposed to be my kid? ‘Cause I’m no angel,” Dean says.

To his surprise, it isn’t Jude that answers, but Castiel.

“The DNA of the host is passed along to the child, along with the possessing angel’s grace.” Cas’ voice has returned to a monotone state, but he won’t look at Dean when he speaks. That’s never a good sign.

“So you’re saying that I fathered a kid while Michael was possessing me? Because Cas, you read all my memories, and there wasn’t anything like that. And there was nothing about Lisa,” Dean says, his voice almost imperceptibly hitching on Lisa’s name. Cas doesn’t respond.

“Cas?” Dean prompts, but the angel still doesn’t answer.

“Michael was not my other father,” Jude says quietly. This time the impassiveness she displayed before isn’t present. She doesn’t look at Dean when she said it. Her eyes remain on Castiel.

“Then who?” Dean demands, still clueless, desperate to know the answer and dreading to know the truth.


	4. I'll Follow the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But in that instant, the reason didn’t matter. Dean knew he was done for, knew it was the end, knew that any moment now Billie would come and collect him herself and throw him into the Empty, lock the door and throw away the key. Except that it didn’t happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, this is a flashback to Jude's past.

_“And now the time has come_   
_And so, my love, I must go_   
_And though I lose a friend_   
_In the end you will know.”_

It happened so quickly that Dean didn’t have time to think. His only thought was of Castiel. Michael, impossibly strong in his new vessel, had charged them. His forces of freakish monster hybrids had attacked, and the hunters had started to gain the upper hand, but when Michael himself entered the fray, everything was lost.

Dean knew in an instant that it was Michael. It didn’t matter that he had a new vessel. He just knew. Dean had just enough time, barely enough time, to warn the others before Michael had gone into full dickbag smiting mode. Dean later realized that his warning might have been the reason that Michael came for him first, not just because Dean had been his previous vessel. No, Michael had clearly had a reason for leaving Dean alive.

But in that instant, the reason didn’t matter. Dean knew he was done for, knew it was the end, knew that any moment now Billie would come and collect him herself and throw him into the Empty, lock the door and throw away the key. Except that it didn’t happen.

Castiel—stupidly protective, wonderfully brave—threw himself in front of Dean when he sensed Michael’s wrath. What transpired next was honestly a blur in Dean’s mind. He had vague memories of knowing that Cas was dying, that Sam and the others had somehow managed to beat Michael back for the time being. Dean’s only clear memory, his only vivid thought at the time, was that Cas couldn’t die. He wouldn’t let him.

Cas babbled something about how instead of smiting him, Michael essentially poisoned him. How Cas would die if he remained in this vessel, but he couldn’t vacate it either. It was like something about how the curse Michael whammied him with would prevent him from being able to take any other form but human for very long. Castiel said something about needing to find a new vessel, but how he couldn’t do that, not to another person, not after Jimmy. Dean didn’t really understand all of it. The only thing he understood was that Cas was going to let himself die. And Dean knew that when the words came tumbling out of his mouth, he meant them with all his heart and soul.

“Use me, Cas. Take me,” he said, holding the angel tighter to him. His hands gripped fiercely into the folds of Cas’ dirty trench coat.

“Dean—” Castiel tried to protest, his hand fluttering bloody and useless against Dean’s chest.

“Use me as your vessel, Cas. At least until we figure out what to do next. Until we can undo Michael’s curse. Come on, man, you can’t die on me. I won’t let you. Not again. Not ever again.”

“But Dean—”

“I have a strong vessel, Cas, you know that. And I know you’d never hurt me. Please, Cas. Don’t die. I’m begging you here, man, don’t die on me.”

  
“Dean, you can’t really mean—” Cas’ words were cut off by bubbles of blood that frothed over his parted lips. Dean knew what he meant to say anyway. How he couldn’t really mean to willingly be possessed after what Michael had done with him. But Castiel was wrong.

“I do, Cas, I really do. I need you,” Dean said, voice breaking. “I need you. I need you, you son of a bitch! You hear me? So take me as your vessel. Go on, do it. Just do it! Don’t you leave me!”

After that, the only thing Dean remembered for a long while was a bright flash of blue-white light, a sudden searing heat that surrounded him, penetrated him down to the very marrow of his bones. And the feeling that he was not alone. But in a good way, in a way that Michael hadn’t made him feel. In a way that he knew where he ended and the angel began, but the angel didn’t probe and pry into Dean’s innermost thoughts. How instead, the angel seemed to mold around him, his essence protecting him just like his vessel had done minutes before. His angel. Castiel.


	5. Ticket to Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas would never let him drown.

_“For she would never be free_

_When I was around.”_

Years ago, Dean had joked about being an angel condom. He’d fallen back on his default setting of using sarcasm to hide his feelings. Even so, that was how he’d felt when Michael was wearing him to the prom. Like a puppet, like a slave…like a little bitch. Drowning in himself with Michael pushing his head further and further under the water. But with Castiel, that wasn’t the case. Cas would never let him drown.

Dean didn’t know if it was just part of Cas’ nature, or if it was all those years of coming to terms with what he did with Jimmy’s vessel, or if it was his own “profound bond” with Dean that made everything different. When Cas possessed him, Dean felt his presence, but he never felt compelled by him. It was like Cas was just hitching a ride, but Dean was in the driver’s seat. And Cas had no desire at all to drive.

The first few weeks were the oddest. At first Castiel tried to withdraw into himself, and allow Dean complete autonomy as if Cas wasn’t there at all. But Dean felt himself missing Cas, missing his presence, and so he closed his eyes and focused his thoughts on Cas, just like when he had prayed to him. A part of Cas was better than no Cas at all.

After that, Castiel became more like a voice inside Dean’s head. It sounded gravelly and comforting, just like the voice Cas had projected through his other vessel. Castiel never manipulated, never pried. Sometimes he offered commentary, sometimes he held conversations with Dean in his mind, allowing Dean to form thoughts as if they were words instead of just sensing what Dean meant. Cas’ presence comforted Dean. He still had his best friend. He still had someone to talk to.

Castiel never asked to take complete control of Dean’s vessel unless he was in imminent danger, and even then, Cas somehow took the time to gain Dean’s permission before using him to channel Cas’ powers. And Cas never used his mojo on Dean unless he asked, either, except to ensure that Dean slept without waking up in the middle of the night screaming in terror. Dean didn’t mind.

Eventually the others grew used to the combination of Dean and Castiel together. Dean grew accustomed to speaking for Cas, used to Mary or Jack asking Cas something through him, and Dean repeating Cas’ answer to them like a translator. He occasionally deviated from Cas’ exact words, but even then, Dean only got the smallest of mental pokes from Cas, as if to say, _“Dean, please.”_

Dean grew used to his routine, of sharing himself with Castiel. Their lives continued in an almost normal fashion, chasing after Michael and his lunatic ideas and killing off his monsters. Dean felt almost at peace, despite the nature of their lives. Until the day that Michael went after Lisa Braeden and her son.

Michael hadn’t been gentle, or respectful, like Castiel was when he had possessed Dean. He had knocked down the barriers in Dean’s mind like they were nothing, and Dean could only lie back and take it, so to speak. So it was no wonder that Michael knew about his year with Lisa and Ben. That he knew what Dean had felt, the good and the bad. How he knew that if he couldn’t touch anyone else, Michael could still dick over some of the people Dean cared about.

Dean recalled the heartbroken shell of a woman that he held in his arms as Lisa sobbed against him. How he, and Cas, or anyone else, had been unable to prevent Michael snapping his fingers and smiting Ben into oblivion like it was next to nothing. Dean buried his own grief at the loss in order to be there for Lisa. Sometimes Dean wondered if he was only strong enough to do that because of Cas. Dean knew he couldn’t have held his head above water, let alone carry Lisa’s weight too, without Cas there to hold him steady.

Lisa steadfastly refused to allow Castiel to wipe her memories again. Part of her was definitely still pissed at learning how Dean had asked Cas to make her and Ben forget him all those years ago, even if it was for her own safety.

The first thing Michael had done was strip away the barriers that Cas had placed. Ben knew full well who Dean was and why Michael wanted to hurt him because of it when Michael smote him. If Dean didn’t need to be there for Lisa, if he didn’t have Cas to help him, Dean would have drank himself into nothing to try and erase that pain. To try and erase the look in Ben’s eyes before he became a cloud of pink mist. Drowned himself in whiskey and grief and gratefully sank beneath the waves.

So part of Dean sort of understood when Lisa approached him one day, a couple months after Ben’s death, and demanded to speak to both him and Castiel. Nothing could have prepared him for what she was proposing though. Nothing in all his years, nothing in all of Cas’ years. And nothing could have prepared either of them to say yes.


	6. I Saw Her Standing There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!
> 
> There are a few things I didn't tag because they would be spoilers. However, everything that happens in this chapter is consensual. All parties are aware of everything that is happening and the possible outcomes/consequences.

_“Well my heart went boom_

_When I crossed that room_

_And I held her hand in mine”_

“Are you sure, Lis?” Dean asked, for the umpteenth time.

“Yes, Dean. I’m sure.”

“You know what could happen—” (Cas mentally prodded him) “—what will probably most definitely happen if we go through with this.”

“I know. Michael deserves to pay for what he’s done, Dean. To my son. Our boy. If this can put a stop to Michael, then it’s worth it. No matter the cost.”

Dean paused, a thousand and one arguments running through his mind, and he was sure a million and one were running through Cas’, before realizing that they had been through this with Lisa before. That she had made up her mind. That the terms had been set, and that she wasn’t backing out, not now. So Dean simply said, “Okay.”

Dean wasn’t sure if the feeling of absolute trepidation he felt in his gut was his, or Cas’, when Lisa emerged from the bathroom. Dean raised himself from a sitting position from where he had been reclining on the bed, unable to prevent himself from staring at her.

“God, Lis, you’re beautiful.”

Lisa didn’t respond, only gave him the smallest of smiles as she leaned against the doorframe. Dean rose to his feet, blood pumping, and crossed over to his ex, almost shyly taking her hand in his. Dean drew close enough to kiss her, but didn’t just yet, instead resting his forehead against hers.

A small involuntary tug at the back of his mind made Dean realize that the jittery feelings he was experiencing weren’t entirely his. They were Cas’ feelings. It was understandable. Cas’ night with April hadn’t exactly ended well for him.

“ _Cas, buddy, I feel for you, but you gotta let me take care of this, okay? No backseat driving, got it?”_ he thought, and Dean felt Cas make a conscious effort to calm himself.

Dean leaned forward to kiss Lisa, softly at first, then more hungrily as he felt her respond to his touch. Their hands wound around each other, around waists and shoulders, in her hair, down his spine to curve around his ass. Dean couldn’t tell if Lisa’s urgency was for him, in need of his body, or if she just needed an outlet for her grief. He couldn’t tell the reasons behind his own desire, if they were the same or not. He didn’t care. He knew that this was what Lisa wanted. If Dean couldn’t bring Ben back, he could at least give Lisa this. _They_ could give her this.

It wasn’t until he had slid all the way inside her, felt the warmth of her pulse around his hardness, that Dean fully noticed how Cas couldn’t resist observing. He wasn’t mesmerized by the way that Dean had teased Lisa; Cas was enraptured by the responses of Dean’s body. How he had flinched in sudden pleasure when she touched certain spots, how he had felt himself quiver watching Lisa writhe and moan as Dean pleasured her. No, it wasn’t Lisa that Cas couldn’t stop focusing on. It was Dean. And for some inexplicable reason, Dean _liked_ it.

This was more than just some voyeuristic kink of having someone watch. Dean reveled in the shared pleasure that he and Castiel felt as he moved. Dean’s arousal had been triggered by Lisa, Cas’ interest was focused on Dean’s pleasure, and Dean felt himself growing closer and closer to climax by the overwhelming knowledge and presence of Cas’ interest.

It was easy, then, after Lisa reached her peak, body rippling against Dean’s in pleasure, to allow Cas to fully take the reins. Not just because in that moment, he must, but because Dean wanted to let Cas feel it for himself. Dean marveled at the feeling of himself move deeper and thrust harder as Lisa climaxed. But it wasn’t him who made himself; it was Cas. His pleasure overrode Dean’s as his hips became jerky and needy, thrusting deeply into Lisa once, twice, three times—so that when Dean reached his crest, Cas did too.


	7. Something

_“You’re asking me, will my love grow?_

_I don’t know, I don’t know.”_

Dean ought to feel ashamed, but he didn’t. He laid on the bed, body curled around Lisa’s as she slept, his nose nuzzling into the back of her neck. Dean closed his eyes and allowed himself to succumb to the inner recesses of his mind. He could still feel Cas’ presence inside him.

“ _Hey Cas?”_ he thought.

 _“Yes, Dean?”_ came the reply.

_“You okay?”_

Dean didn’t know if it was possible for the angel’s consciousness to chuckle, in that world inside his mind, but he could have sworn that Cas did. _“Yes, Dean.”_

_“So I take it you enjoyed yourself?”_

_“Oh, yes, Dean. Very much so.”_

The impish side of Dean couldn’t help but ask, _“More so than with April?”_

Cas appeared to ponder this for a moment before answering. _“In a way, yes. I could never repeat my first time, never hope to accurately compare that to another experience, but this was different. With April, I was only myself. Here, with you…it wasn’t just me.”_

 _“Is that good?”_ Dean asked, almost hesitant.

_“I suppose, yes.”_

_“You suppose?”_ Dean felt the beginnings of rejection and shame spread over him.

 _“I enjoyed myself thoroughly, Dean,”_ Cas seemed to almost whisper, his grace washing a cool sense of calm throughout Dean’s body. _“And I know that you did, and Lisa clearly did as well.”_

_“So then what’s the hangup?”_

_“The same reason you are conflicted_ ,” Cas explained. _“We all know what comes next.”_

_“We don’t know if—”_

Cas’ thoughts cut him off. _“It did. I can feel it. I feel…her.”_


	8. Because

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jude explains it all calmly, as if this isn’t the most batshit thing ever said in the history of ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the present timeline!

_“Love is old, love is new_

_Love is all, love is you”_

“What do you mean, Michael’s not your ‘other’ father?” Dean asked, thoroughly bewildered. The explanation he gets, which he suspects is just the nutshell version, leaves his mind reeling.

Castiel broken, dying, in some extra-horrendous version of the time he’d been stabbed by Ramiel and almost dissolved into an inky pile of sludge. Except this time, Dean offering himself to Castiel as a vessel. Lisa, heartbroken over Ben’s death. Lisa, driven to the edge of reason with the need for vengeance. Dean, more than sympathizing, wanting to go along with her stupid plan. Cas, for some reason, agreeing to it too. How the three of them hid their plan from the others until it was too late to stop them.

“So you see, my human mother was Lisa Braeden, and my human father was you, Dean, but my grace came from Castiel. He’s my father too,” Jude explains calmly, as if this isn’t the most batshit thing ever said in the history of ever.

“No,” Dean says, trying to shake himself to sanity, “That’s not possible. Cas could never do that. I could never do that. Let alone to Lisa.”

“You couldn’t now. But in the future—”

“No. No, this is impossible.”

“How far would you go to avenge your family, Dean?” Jude asks, her voice low and steely, her gaze so reminiscent of Cas’ that Dean is rendered speechless. “How far have you gone to protect Sam, to save him? And him for you? What lengths do you think your mother would go to protect her children? And failing that, to avenge them?”

Dean just sits there, his disbelief melting away into begrudging acceptance. Something still gnaws at him, though.

“Even if this was Lisa’s choice, her idea, I don’t know how I could have gone through with agreeing to raise a child to be a weapon. To force them into a way of life, like I was, to raise them to be a soldier.”

Jude’s gaze and her tone soften.

“You didn’t force me,” she says. “I chose this. You gave me a choice.”

“I did?”

“Yes. You and the others—you taught me everything you could. You gave me everything, every tool in your arsenal to prepare me for whatever decision I made. You told me a hundred times that you would accept whatever I chose, no matter what the decision was, no matter what anybody else might have wanted.”

“But you still decided to anyway,” Dean says, feeling his heart break.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“For similar reasons to you saying ‘yes’ to Michael. Except this time, it wasn’t to protect my family.”

When Dean only looks at her quizzically, she elaborates.

“I couldn’t save them. So I chose to avenge them,” Jude says, gesturing at the others. At his mother, tears falling freely and silently down her face. At Sam, looking like a gigantic lost puppy. At Jack, eyebrows scrunched in understanding and pity.

“Michael…Michael killed them?”

“Yes. If not directly, then by his course of action. But if we stop Michael, we can stop those deaths from happening.”

“You can’t know that. He—”

“Doesn’t know what the future will bring. But I do, and know how to prevent it. Trust me, please…Dad.”

“I don’t know if I can do this, Jude,” Dean whispers. It’s the first time he’s said Jude’s name aloud since they’ve met.

“Why not?”

“I can’t look my child in the eye and help them make a world where they don’t exist. Not after—not after everything I’ve been through,” Dean says.

“You once offered to make this same sacrifice. You and I both know the weight it carries. You must understand how important this is to me, or I wouldn’t be here.”

Dean hesitates, looking from her, to Cas, to Sam and Mary, before returning to meet her eyes.

“I understand.”

“Then trust me, please.”

“I want to. But Sam and I tried this once before,” Dean says. “It didn’t work with us. It was already too late.”

“It worked for Balthazar,” Sam says. “With the _Titanic_. But in that timeline, everything got all screwy, and then Fate tried to kill us—“

“When Balthazar altered history, he created another timeline. Essentially, we did the same thing here—or we will, I guess you could say—but my timeline is ending. That world is ending,” Jude says. “It won’t matter to Fate if I change anything now.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asks.

“Yeah. Billie paved the way for us. This kind of thing tends to get the attention of Death, capital ‘D,’ you know?”

“Sounds like you’ve thought of everything,” Mary says.

“We did. Or we did our best to, anyway.” Jude turns to Dean. “Will you trust me now?”

And with that, Dean simply nods. He will follow this young woman, his and Lisa’s daughter, Cas’ child, wherever she leads. She’s his, after all, made up of the parts of people he loves and trusts. So how can he not trust her too?


	9. It Won't Be Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of a filler, but it helps the story flow better. I'm sorry if it's a little rough. More interesting plot in the next chapter, I promise!

_“Since you left me, I'm so alone_

_Now you're coming, you're coming on home”_

It would take time, her fathers had said, for their past selves to fully gain her trust. Jude knows this. Accepts it. Still doesn’t help the ever-growing sense of dread she feels as the seconds ticked past, racing closer and closer to the event that she came here to prevent.

Jude understands their awkwardness. There was the supernatural, and then there was just plain freaky. Dean and Cas are especially wary of her at first. Jude thinks it had something to do with knowing what their future selves had done. Would do. What Jude is trying to stop them from doing. Whatever. She vows that she wouldn’t try to put any more of that weight on them.

Jude tries to mention something positive, or at least, not hellishly negative, whenever they ask her about her life. No, Lisa hadn’t survived the birth. Yes, they tried to revive her, bring her back, and no, it hadn’t worked. They suspected that Billie had something to do with that. But yes, Jude knows that Lisa loved her. No, Jude didn’t really have a childhood. She’d “grown up” almost as quickly as Jack had. But no, she doesn’t blame them for her existence. She understands the reasons. She knows she still has a choice. And most importantly, Jude knows that they loved her.

The others are wary of her too at first. How can they not be? But eventually they grow used to her presence. Sam is the first to start to trust her. Maybe it’s because he always wanted Dean to be able to have a family. Jude’s just thankful she was lucky enough to arrive in the room Sam was in, to have the opportunity to speak to him first. She isn’t entirely sure that her father—no, not her father—that _Dean_ wouldn’t have shot her on sight. (Not that it would have hurt her physically.)

Mary is the next to trust her, and Jude isn’t sure at first if it was because she reminds Mary of a younger Dean, the one she never knew. Jude is able to relax with this version of Mary, especially since this Mary isn’t the hardened woman Jude knew. This Mary still has her boys, whole and unbroken, and she has Bobby. Jude doesn’t entirely understand what drew those two together, but Mary seems happy enough.

Next is Jack, and Jude knows why the former nephilim is so drawn to her. She has some of the power he once had. His grace came from an archangel, and hers did not, so there are some limits to what she can do versus what Jack was capable of doing. Jude tries to be at ease with Jack, tries to behave normal (whatever normal could be), but it’s difficult to separate this Jack from the future version. It’s difficult to look into his eyes without seeing the inhuman ones that she knew, even though she desperately wants to.

Bobby, or “New Bobby,” as Jude heard her fathers refer to him, only begins to trust Jude when she proves just how useful she can be on a hunt. The fact that she can wield a machete like it’s an extension of her own arm seems more impressive to the gruff old man than her ability to burn a monster’s brains out with a single touch. It makes Jude grateful that her fathers insisted on training her on how to fight with more than just her powers.

One by one, they begin to accept her more fully. The last to drop their reservations are Dean and Castiel. Sometimes Jude thinks that this Cas avoids her because of what he saw in her mind, in her memories. He was so appalled on the day that she allowed him to see them. But sometimes Castiel looks at her with ease, and more and more he begins to look at her with genuine affection. Except when Dean is around. Then Cas regresses a little bit into his awkward self.

This younger version of Dean is in many ways alike the older one she Jude knew. Parts of him are more jaded, while others are softer. He’s angrier than the Dean that Jude had known, despite the way he so clearly tries to control his temper. Maybe it’s because of the way that John had sometimes taken his anger out on Dean. Jude doesn’t ask.

Gradually, Dean becomes more comfortable talking to her. At first they mostly talk of inconsequential things, like music or movies, cars and burgers and pie. Things they have in common. Then their conversations opens up to topics with far more gravity. Dean seeks Jude’s opinion on Michael’s monster army, questions her for insights that only someone from the future can know, actually listens when she offers pieces of advice. Occasionally Dean asks about the future version of himself, or the others. Jude never tells him much, though.

“The consequences of telling you your own future—it could jeopardize what I’m trying to accomplish,” she explains during one of these Q&A sessions. Then after a brief pause, she says, “You remember all the messed up crap that Marty McFly got himself into. And it’s not like I got a Delorean to use if I screw this up.”

Dean stares at her for a moment, then bursts out laughing.

“What’s so funny? I’m being serious. That spell was a one-time thing. I’ve already altered the timelines too much just by _being_ here.”

But that only makes Dean laugh more.

“What?” Jude repeats, exasperated.

“Oh, nothing,” he replies, the echoes of his laugh reaching the little crinkles near the corners of his eye.

“No, really.”

“It’s—” Dean pauses, his expression turning somber. “At first you sounded just like Cas. But then you pulled a complete one-eighty and it was like I was talkin’ to myself, only for you to just turn back into Cas again.”

That was the only time Dean comes close to acknowledging that Jude isn’t just his child (or another version of him), but Castiel’s, too. And suddenly Jude understands Castiel’s hesitation to be near her or speak too freely with her in front of Dean. Cas is afraid of how Dean feels about their future selves essentially making a baby together. And he’s afraid to find out for sure. _We’ll see about that_ , Jude thinks.


	10. Come Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, you have this horrible habit of only allowing yourself to admit your feelings when you’re backed into a corner and think it might be your last chance to say them aloud.”

_“One thing I can tell you is_

_You got to be free_

_Come together, right now_

_Over me”_

“Why don’t you just talk to him?” Jude blurts out, as if she’s unable to hold the words back any longer.

“Talk to who?” Dean asks, attention focused under the Impala’s hood. His Baby was making some unacceptable rattling noises the last time he took her out.

“Cas.”

“What’re you talking about, kid?” he says gruffly, trying to cover up the fact that the wrench he held nearly just slipped from his fingers. 

“You know. The way you two barely speak to each other.” Jude fixes her gaze at Dean until he finally speaks.

“I’m not getting out of this conversation, am I?” Dean asks, resigned.

“Nope. Not a chance, old man.”

Dean chuckles once, dryly, but the slight smirk remains on his lips as he sets the wrench aside and wipes his hands on an already grease-covered rag. “Okay. Say your piece.”

“I want to know why the two of you can’t even barely meet the other’s eye. I thought he was your best friend, besides Sam, that is. What happened to the two of you?”

“Nothing happened,” Dean replies, too quickly to be entirely truthful.

“Bullshit.”

“Nice language.”

“Well, I learned it from you.”

“Of course you did,” Dean says, but he doesn’t say any more. Instead, he continues to worry his fingers into the greasy rag, as if he can really get his hands clean with the nasty thing. Jude sighs, rolls her eyes, and then snaps her fingers. Dean looks down at his suddenly clean hands, then back up at Jude in exasperation. “Really?”

“Perks of being me,” she says, with a wolfish grin so like his own.

“Why do you even give a damn about whether or not Cas and I talk, anyhow? I thought the whole reason you were here is so you could stop your future. If me and Cas are two-thirds responsible for that, doesn’t it make sense for the two of us to keep our distance from each other?” Dean argues.

“Is that really the only reason why you’re avoiding him? Why things were so awkward and repressed between the two of you even before I showed up here?” Jude asks, fixing Dean with such a shrewd look that Dean nearly flinches under her gaze.

“Does it matter?” he asks, going on the defensive. Jude has this knack of being able to get just under his skin. Dean wonders vaguely if she learned that trick from future Sam.

“Yes, it matters. Even though the versions of you that I knew are so different from you now, I still care about the current versions of you.”

“So you’re saying that we—” Dean stops. Nope, not going there. “—that _it_ matters to you, but does it really matter in the grand scheme of things?”

“It does, actually.”

“Oh really?” Dean says, crossing his arms and leaning back against the Impala.

“Before I left my time, you and Cas allowed me to see your memories. Not all of them, just enough so that I would recognize what had led to the future I knew.” When Dean doesn’t speak, Jude continues. “When my version of Michael poisoned Cas and corrupted his vessel…the two of you had barely spoken in months. You’d grown apart. From what I understand, it lead to you offering yourself up to be Cas’ new vessel.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asks, feeling defensive.

“You felt guilty for not opening up to Cas after everything that happened with Michael. You couldn’t bear to say goodbye to him. There was too much unfinished business. And you have this horrible habit of only allowing yourself to admit your feelings when you’re backed into a corner and think it might be your last chance to say them aloud.”

Dean clears his throat. “So you’re saying I did that out of what, desperation?”

“Yes.”

“What the hell do you expect me to do about it now? It’s not like I can snap my fingers and let myself have a gooey chick-flick moment with the guy, is it? And don’t you dare snap your fingers and make me capable of that. That’s cheating.”

“I would never take away the free will of the man who taught me what it means. What it costs,” Jude says, without any trace of the mocking tone that Dean just used with her.

“So what the hell do I do?” Dean says, but his voice is softer this time. Sincere, like he means it.

“Talk to him.”

“And say what, exactly?”

“I can’t tell you. That’d be cheating.”

“Some help you are,” Dean grumbles, turning back to his car. But later that night, he offers Cas a beer, stands next to him in the kitchen and makes awkward small talk about inconsequential things until the silent tension between them begins to ease ever so slightly.

* * *

It’s painful at first, talking to Cas. So much shit has happened to them, between them, that it’s difficult to know which band-aid to rip off first. Dean puts it off for another day until he elects to let whiskey decide where to begin for him.

“You’ve been drinking,” Cas says, his tone somewhat observational but with just the slightest hint of disappointment. He stands in the doorway of the TV room, frowning.

Dean doesn’t respond, doesn’t address Cas’ concern or take his words as bait for a fight. Instead, he pours out a tumbler of the amber liquid for Castiel.

He can see the words start to form on his lips, about how angels have no need for alcohol, but the look in Dean’s eyes makes him stop. Dean’s gaze says more than he could ever will himself to voice. It always does. Cas steps closer, closing the door behind him, and he takes the proffered glass without comment, taking a small sip out of courtesy.

They remain in silence for a few moments before Dean allows the burning words to pass his lips. “I’m sorry, Cas. For saying ‘yes’ to Michael, and ignoring you, and all my other bullshit...”

Dean is just aware of the single hot tear that escaped from his eye before he finds himself inexplicably caught up into Cas’ comforting embrace, whiskey glasses abandoned on a side table. He must be drunker than he thought for this to feel so good. Right?

“I know, Dean,” Cas was saying. “And I forgive you.”

Dean pulls away, starting to protest, but Cas catches his arms and holds Dean in from of him, staring squarely into Dean’s eyes.

“Do you remember the night in the barn, when I first appeared to you in human form? How I realized you didn’t think you deserved to be saved?”

Dean nods. How could he possibly forget that night? When the most badass thing he’d ever seen walked up to him, showering sparks as he approached.

“You were worthy of salvation then. And you are worthy of forgiveness now,” Cas says. “Oh Dean, when will you learn to trust that the way I view you could be true?”

“But you’re still pissed at me. For saying ‘yes’ to Michael,” Dean whispers. He feels Cas’ hands tighten slightly on his arms.

“I am, Dean. And I don’t know if I will cease to be ‘pissed,’ as you put it, anytime in the immediate future. But I do know that I will forgive you. I always will. We’ve done such terrible things to one another, yet we still return. There is nothing you could ever do that would prevent me from forgiving you. Not for forever.”

“Even if that means I have to let you die?” Dean asks, unable to hide his anguish. He finds himself gripping Cas’ upper arms, as if the angel would suddenly disappear on him if he didn’t hold tight to him.

“Jude told you, then? What I saw in her memories?” Cas asks quietly.

It was the first time that either of them has spoken her name to each other.

“She told me that I invited you in because I couldn’t stand to see you die. And I don’t know if I can just sit back and let that happen. Jude warned me about knowing my future but I’ll be damned if I will let you die. Not again,” Dean vows.

Words fail them both. Dean returns to the angel’s warm embrace, burying the tears that threatened to break free. When he finally pulls himself away, he sees that Cas’ brilliant blue eyes are wet too. Neither speaks about it. They pass the evening watching old reruns of _Star Trek_ , Dean making snide comments about Kirk’s libido, and Castiel trying to point out every technical inaccuracy he saw. For once, Dean doesn’t mind. He’s content to have his best friend back, and it’s enough for now.


	11. Blackbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He isn’t quite at the toss-you-back-in-the-pit level of pissed that Dean has seen before, but the expression in his eyes is so fierce, Dean wonders if Cas is seriously considering smiting someone just to prove a point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're squicky about needles, here's your heads-up. But don't worry, it's not as violent or graphic as the show.

_“Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly”_

“Are you sure we shouldn’t just tell them the truth? I mean, if they know what’s coming for them, it wouldn’t hurt for them to be prepared,” Dean says.

“We’ve been over this,” Cas says, pinching the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb, his other arm crossed over his chest. He sits with the others as they eat breakfast, even though he has no need to eat. “We don’t know what triggers Michael’s interest in the Braedens in Jude’s future. It would be unwise to approach them directly.”

Dean’s about to protest when Sam speaks up.

“We’ve sent hunters to discreetly check on them without actually interacting with them. Rowena’s placed warding spells around them, their cars, where they live, everything we could think of. Dean, we’ve done everything we can to make sure they’re safe for the time being.”

“What do you think, kid?” Dean asks Jude, ignoring his brother.

She pauses, taking a long sip of coffee before answering.

“I agree with Sam and Cas. I don’t think we should rush into anything. Even though every instinct I have is telling me to zap over there and drag them back to the bunker.”

Dean snorts. Holy hell, it was like the better half of his conscious had manifested itself and decided to park itself in his kitchen. Some voice in the back of Dean’s mind thinks that Cas had probably had something to do with the way Jude turned out. Dean tries to ignore the way that makes him feel.

“Look, I’d just feel better if we had a way of knowing for sure that they were safe. Maybe if you went all invisible girl and popped in on them from time to time?” Dean suggests, looking hopefully across the table at Jude.

She frowns. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t think that would be advisable, Dean,” Cas intones, annoyingly reasonable. “Even with the cloaking sigils that Jude has, I don’t know if it would be safe for her to be in such proximity to Lisa and Ben. Under the right, or wrong circumstances, Michael would be able to sense her power.”

Yep, the guy had definitely had something to do with how Jude got to be the way she was today. Dean simultaneously feels proud and irritated at the idea. But Castiel has a point. Dean can just see the edges of the tattoos on Jude’s forearms, peeking out beneath the rolled cuffs of her shirt sleeves. One anti-possession sigil, one angel warding sigil. Both unsettlingly familiar to him.

When he first saw them, Dean wondered how they’d managed to stick on her when Jack’s mojo had wiped his away. When he asked, Jude told him some bullshit about how her mojo came from Cas, who was definitely not an archangel, and an angel without wings to boot. Dean wasn’t sure if there wasn’t more to that, but he didn’t pry. He knew well enough how it sounded when he was trying to hide something. Apparently that was something that Jude had gotten from him.

“Okay, so then what about you, Cas? Anything you could do?” Dean asks, forcing himself to meet the angel’s eyes. Things aren’t as tense between them as they had been, but there are still some unresolved crap they haven’t dealt with yet. If they ever would.

Cas looks almost sad when he shakes his head. In the two seconds it takes him to speak, he manages to wipe the traces of emotion from his face.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I cannot ‘pop in’ on anyone anymore.”

“Right. Forget I mentioned it,” Dean mumbles, shoving another strip of bacon in his mouth. He can sense that Sam wants to continue the conversation, but a quick nudge of Dean’s elbow puts a stop to it. His little brother sighs heavily and turns back to his pancakes, and their breakfast conversation gradually returns to less explosive topics.

* * *

That seems like the end of that discussion, until two days later when the lights in the bunker start to flicker. Dean grabs his sawed-off, already loaded with salt rounds, and charges from his room. He runs through the bunker’s corridors until he finds the place where the lights are the most afflicted. Without hesitation, he barges into the infirmary, fully expecting to gank some freaky-ass powerful ghost that had somehow managed to get through their warding, but he stops dead short when he sees the real source of the his home’s electrical trouble.

Jude lies back on an exam table, face screwed up in either pain or concentration, Dean can’t tell. The quiver of her arm muscles as she balls her hands into white-knuckled fists match the flicker of lights exactly. The source of her discomfort is obvious, and the sight makes Dean feel like someone pulled the floor out from beneath him.

The syringe looks normal-sized in Sam’s large, calloused hands. With its needle plunged deep into the muscle of Jude’s neck, it looks gigantic. Monstrous. Dean can only look on in horror, at a loss as to what was happening, until he sees the whitish-blue light that fills the syringe. Sam is extracting Jude’s grace.

“What in the _fucking hell_ are you doing?” Dean roars, resisting the urge to point his shotgun at Sam.

Belatedly, Dean realizes that he shouldn’t have shouted, just in case he startled his brother so badly that Sam hurt Jude even more. Fortunately, though, Sam’s giant hands remain steady. He gives Dean only the briefest of glances before pinching the skin of Jude’s neck where the needle entered, and carefully withdraws the horrible thing. Even then, he doesn’t speak until after he places the syringe on a tray and presses a piece of gauze to Jude’s neck.

“Jude asked for my help,” Sam says, taping down the gauze, and Dean can tell that his brother was making an effort to keep his voice calm, while mentally preparing himself for a fight.

“In what, killing her?” Dean returns, as he comes down the steps, not bothering to put any restraint in his tone.

“No,” Jude says, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes flutter open, reluctantly, and the shine of pain in them makes Dean’s temper spike further just as it makes his heart ache.

“So then what exactly did I witness here?” Dean demands, making a tremendous effort to set the shotgun aside as he moves closer.

“Jude asked my help in extracting some of her grace—” Sam begins, but Dean cut him off.

“Yeah, I got that part, Sam. What I don’t understand is why either of you would do something so damn risky. Jack lost his grace, and look at him now!”

“It’s okay,” Jude croaks. “I’ve been through this before. I was fine then; I’ll be fine now. It’s not all of my grace, anyway. I’ll just need a little time to recharge.”

“Why on earth would you do this?” Dean asks her.

The answer leaves him dumbfounded.

“To give Cas his wings back.”

* * *

The only consolation Dean has in this stupid messed-up bullshit is that Castiel is just as angry at Sam and Jude as Dean himself has been. He isn’t quite at the toss-you-back-in-the-pit level of pissed that Dean has seen before, but the expression in his eyes is so fierce, Dean wonders if Cas is seriously considering smiting someone just to prove a point.

“If you had sought my opinion on this foolish endeavor beforehand, you would have found that I was vehemently opposed to it. It’s a miracle that you are not seriously damaged,” Cas says to Jude, and Dean finds himself comparing Cas’ tone to the way his mother had once chided him for sneaking cookies before dinner. “You do realize that I can’t heal you of this? That I can’t even ease your pain?”

Jude only nods, though Dean suspects that her silence has more to do with the soreness in her neck rather than actual contrition.

Castiel seems to realize this too, for he continues on, saying, “This plan of yours was exceedingly reckless. There is no guarantee that this would restore my wings.”

“I don’t know, Cas,” Sam says. “Jude’s reasoning makes sense. Her power, her grace, comes from you. Essentially, her grace is yours. In theory, it should strengthen you, and your powers. That’s what happened with Lucifer when he stole Jack’s grace. Except in this instance, you’re not stealing it, she’s giving it to you. And it’s not all of it, not even close. She should be fine soon enough.”

“Is that what she told you to convince you to do this?”

“You said you’d done this before?” Dean asks, cutting across Castiel, before he can argue with Sam further. Jude nods.

“You have?” Cas asks, curiosity overriding his anger.

Jude beckons Cas over, and he steps closer and bends his head so that Jude can press two fingers to his forehead. The sight startles Dean; he’s not used to that being done _to_ Cas. But apparently it’s still too painful for Jude to speak. That, or she thought that Vulcan mind-melding her explanation was easier than saying it. Evidently, it is, because it’s only a matter of seconds before their eyes pop back open, and the expression in Cas’ eyes is one of begrudging acceptance.

“Care to share with the rest of the class, Cas?” Dean snaps. He tells himself that he’s irritated with the whole situation, with Jude’s riskiness, and not at the fact Dean doesn’t know why she’d done it even though Cas did. No, his irritation isn’t fueled by the way that every day Cas seems to grow closer and closer to Jude, at the way that he treats her more and more like _his_ child.

Cas turns his wide blue eyes on Dean. “In Jude’s future, some of her grace was extracted and given to u—to me. It was intended as an experimental measure to strengthen me, and my vessel, against Michael’s forces. That it restored my wings was merely a fortunate coincidence.”

“So it works?” Dean asks the question to Cas, but his gaze flits over to Jude for confirmation.

“Yes,” she says hoarsely.

“Then you’ve gotta do it,” Dean says, turning back to Castiel.

“Dean—”

“We can’t just leave it sitting around, can we? And even if we could give it back to Jude, something tells me that she wouldn’t let us do it.”

“Damn right,” Jude says, her voice still strained.

And so Castiel gives in.

* * *

“Thank you,” Castiel says to Jude, once it’s done, once she’s drifting into sleep, her head leaning on Dean’s shoulder with his arm wrapped protectively around her. Cas speaks quietly enough, but Dean can still hear his words clearly. “You needn’t have made this sacrifice for me…but I appreciate it nonetheless. You have no idea what this means to me.”

“It’s what you do for family,” Jude murmurs, before she finally lets exhaustion overcome her.

Wordlessly, Dean strengthens his grip around her shoulder and bends down to scoop up her legs with his other arm. Jude is a little heavier than he expected, but he doesn’t mind. She’s just conscious enough to wrap her arms around his neck. Dean stands and carries her off to bed, like the way he did for Sammy when he was little and John was on a hunt.

Cas doesn’t get up to follow them as he carries Jude down the hallway to her room. Dean sets her down carefully on her bed and turns to grab a quilt to throw over her. When he turns back around, he’s startled to see Cas gingerly undoing the laces of Jude’s boots, then placing them near the edge of the bed.

“You never seemed to enjoy sleeping in your shoes,” Cas says quietly as way of explanation for his sudden appearance.

“So now that you’ve got your wings back, you gonna just pop in randomly on us?” Dean says, voice just above a whisper. He catches Cas’ eye and makes sure that the angel knows he was teasing him. Dean feels like his stomach flip-flops when Cas smiles back at him.

Jude twitches in her sleep. Dean breaks his gaze away from Cas and covers her up with the quilt, and she stills. Silently as possible, Dean walks from her room, motioning to Cas to follow him. This time Castiel doesn’t use his wings, he simply follows Dean out the old-fashioned way and closes the door softly behind them.

“I’m glad you got all your mojo back, man,” Dean says.

“I am as well. I had grown accustomed to being so limited. Having my wings restored…it makes me feel better than I have in years.”

“Back to your old self?” Dean asks, trying and failing to keep any emotion out of his voice. Is Cas going to go back to being the version of him that was a giant dickbag?

“No,” Cas replies. “I’m still this version of me. Except now I can do this.”

Before Dean realizes what was happening, Cas puts a hand on his shoulder, in the same place Cas left his handprint after rescuing him from the pit. Dean blinks, and they’re standing in Dean’s bedroom instead of the hallway.

“Shit, Cas, warn a guy before you do that, will ya?” Dean says, but his relief at seeing Cas be able to do that again outweighs his shock at having been teleported.

Cas doesn’t respond, just looks back at him with an impish expression that Dean supposes he must have learned from him. It’s not until Cas slid his hand down Dean’s arm that he realizes that they’re still touching. Very lightly, Cas wraps his hand around Dean’s, twining their fingers together. Dean lets him. He squeezes Cas’ hand, just enough for him to know that he acknowledges the gesture. Cas smiles at him, a little sadly, and then with a faint _whoosh_ of wings, he’s gone.


	12. Strawberry Fields Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No,” Dean says, pulling away, refusing to let Castiel placate him. He turns back to Jude. “I’m tired of you constantly saying that there’s things you can’t tell us. You said you came back here to prevent your future from happening? To save people from dying? So do it.”

_“Living is easy with eyes closed_

_Misunderstanding all you see"_

“It wasn’t that important,” Jack tries to protest, when Sam and Dean confront him about the trash can full of bloody tissues he’s been hoarding.

It was a normal evening—too normal of an evening. They had all gathered around the table in the war room, eating pizza, talking and joking, somehow managing to forget for once how deeply they were up shit creek. Then Jack started to cough. Not a dry thing in the back of his throat like he typically had, the thing he’d attributed to him being newly human. One second Jack was fine, and then his eyes were suddenly glassy. Then the next moment he was hacking and gagging and reeling for what seemed like forever until his body was able to relax.

“Not that important?” Dean repeats, in disbelief, as he stares at the red, splotchy napkin in Jack’s hands. Dean’s mind drifts back to another time, another bloody rag, another secret kept from him. It was the first sign that the trials to close the gates of hell were killing Sammy. So what could this mean for Jack?

“I thought that it would pass. That when my grace was restored, it would stop. Or that I could heal myself,” Jack explains, not even managing to look sheepish. The kid’s stubborn as hell, and dammit if it doesn’t look like it’s actually going to kill him this time.

“Jack, how long have you been like this?” Sam asks, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Since I lost my grace.”

Sam swears, the explicative exploding into the air around them.

“And you didn’t think to say anything? Not once?”

“I didn’t think it would last.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Sam says, the sympathetic lost puppy eyes long gone. “We’re your _family_ , Jack. You don’t keep stuff like this from family.”

“Dean was your family first,” Jack says, voice soft. “It would have taken you away from the search for him.”

“Doesn’t matter. You still should have told me. Or Cas, or Mom, or hell, _anybody_ , for that matter,” Sam counters.

“Alright, enough,” Mary says, putting a stop to the full-on shouting match that’s about to erupt. “Let’s not focus on that. It won’t do any good for us to go around feeling guilty or defensive. Let’s think about what caused this to happen to Jack, and how we can fix him.”

Mary’s words seem to soothe the tension for the time being. Cas takes the opportunity to press two fingers to Jack’s forehead, letting his grace find out answers that human observation could not. Dean relaxes, knowing that Castiel can fix just about anything, but his whole body tenses back up again when he sees the look on Cas’ face as he pulls away.

“I’ve eased the physical discomfort that you feel, but I can’t repair the rest of the damage.”

“What?”

“There’s another layer of...scar tissue, if you will, around you from where Lucifer cut out your grace. It’s not something I can repair,” Cas explains. “Your vessel is damaged, on a quintessential level.”

“But there has to be some other way, right?” Sam asks.

Dean turns to Jude, who has been completely silent while this whole thing went down. “You’re from the future. How do we fix this?”

“You don’t,” she says, voice hollow.

“What?” Dean asks, appalled. That was definitely not the answer that he had been expecting.

Jude clears her throat, like she’s buying for time to choose her words. “Only an archangel’s grace could restore Jack to his former self. And there isn’t—there isn’t time for Jack’s grace to restore itself on its own before...”

She doesn’t need to say the words. They all knew what she was going to say. There isn’t time for Jack’s powers to come back before the damage he has kills him.

“An archangel? You mean Michael?” Bobby asks, his eyebrows arching high enough to touch his receding hairline.

“Yes,” Jude replies, her face a cautious neutral. It was the face Castiel wore when he tried to hide something.

“Are you saying that Michael is the only way to save Jack? That we have to convince him to heal the man who was once his enemy? Who was his equal?” Mary asks.

“No. It’s worse, actually,” Jude says, reluctantly.

“How could this get worse?” Bobby asks, incredulous.

“When I said ‘an archangel’s grace,’ I didn’t mean someone channeling the grace to heal him. I meant that Jack would need to consume an archangel’s grace.”

“Shit,” Dean says.

“Is there no other way?” Castiel asks.

Jude hesitates to respond.

“Come on, kid, on with it. And don’t give me any of that ‘knowing your future’ crap this time,” Dean prompts.

Jude shoots him a death glare before she answers.

“The only alternative would be for Jack to consume demon blood.”

“No freaking way,” Sam says, just as Jack says, “Would that work?”

“You can’t be serious,” Cas says, though Dean ins’t entirely sure if he was talking to Jack, or if he was talking to Jude. Jude is the one who speaks, though.

“In a nutshell? It would prevent him from dying. He would gain back some of his power. But not in the way anyone wants,” Jude explains. She kept any emotion out of her tone, but Dean can tell that the words were as distasteful to say as they were to hear. “Jack would have to take in enough demon blood that he’d start to become a demon himself. His grace would never return. And then we’d be right back to where we started, needing an archangel’s grace to save him. ‘Cause even if you cured him of being a demon, Jack’s body would still regress to this state.”

“Is that what happened? In your future?” Mary asks, the worried expression she’d been wearing deepening further.

“More or less. Like I said, it was the nutshell version. It took months for you all to even find a solution, and by that point, you were desperate for anything.”

“Desperate enough to drink demon blood?” Dean says, voice harsh.

Jude nods. “And desperate enough to try and bait Michael.”

“And that’s when...” Dean’s voice trails off.

“When Michael used some Apocalypse World spell to poison Cas, and you know where that leads,” Jude finishes for him.

“Hold on a second. We have people from Apocalypse World here. Why didn’t they save Cas?” Sam asks, as if he was pointing out the most obvious thing ever.

“Yeah, this sounds like the kinda thing I could have helped with,” Bobby agrees.

“They couldn’t. Michael killed everyone from that world who went to trap him. There was no time to get Cas back to the bunker, to the ones who were left,” Jude says calmly, but Dean’s ears caught the edge that her voice had. She was holding back again.

“What aren’t you telling us?” he demands.

“I can’t tell you,” Jude says, head down, averting everyone’s eyes.

“Can’t or won’t?” Dean asks.

“Both,” she shoots back, head snapping up.

“Like hell,” Dean growls.

“Dean—” Cas starts, placing a hand on his shoulder in warning.

“No,” Dean says, pulling away, refusing to let Castiel placate him. He turns back to Jude. “I’m tired of you constantly saying that there’s things you can’t tell us. You said you came back here to prevent your future from happening? To save people from dying? So do it.”

“I told you what I knew could save Jack. I told you that you would need Michael’s grace to get Jack his powers back. I told you everything you needed to know not to fall into the same trap that your future selves do. What more do you want from me?” Jude’s voice gets louder as she speaks. She's almost yelling by the time she finishes.

“How about the truth, huh? The part that you’re not telling us? Telling _me_?” Dean counters.

“You don’t know what you’re asking!” Jude is shouting now, and Dean can’t stop himself from yelling back.

“Really?! Or do you just think that I can’t handle it? ‘Cause you sure as hell had no problems letting _Cas_ know everything!”

“You think I told him _every_ thing?” Jude returns, her voice ending in something like a shriek.

“How would I know what you showed him? How am I supposed to know what secrets the two of you are keeping from me? What, am I not good enough to know them?!” Dean thunders.

He knows, as soon as Jude doesn’t yell back, that he’s about to have his ass handed to him. She’s reached the point that Dean has many times, when words fail and fists begin to fly. But when the moment comes, it’s the farthest thing from what Dean expected.

A bright gold light explodes from Jude, surrounding the two of them, forcing the others away, like a bubble separating them from everyone else. Dean can see the rest of his family outside the shimmering barrier. Cas looks like he’s yelling Jude’s name, and Dean thinks Sam is screaming his, but he can’t hear them, only see the way their faces move as if in slow motion. The only thing he can hear sounds like wind rushing all around them.

Dean looks behind them to see Mary, eyes wide with horror, Bobby and Jack clutching at her from behind like they’re trying to restrain her. They struggle as slowly as if they were moving through molasses. It would be almost comical if the hairs on Dean’s neck weren’t standing up from pure terror.

He turns to face Jude, the world swimming around him, and as Dean’s green eyes meet her burning gold ones, he freezes in place. Jude looks as though she’s going to smite him, or toss him back into hell, or worse. But when she speaks, her voice is unnaturally calm.

“You want the truth? It’s yours, Dean Winchester.”

He blinks, and Jude is an arm’s length away from him. As she places two fingers on his forehead, Dean realizes that the rushing sound he hears is the sound of his own blood pumping furiously. Jude’s eyes blaze brighter, and everything goes dark. Dean’s mind floods with images of another time, another world, another version of himself, and it’s too late to take anything back.


	13. Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When this is over, Dean…” Sam trailed off briefly before continuing. “I hope you’ll find a way to have some peace.” 
> 
> And then he walked away too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, this is a memory that Jude got from Future-Dean that she is showing to current Dean. That is why it is written in the past tense.

_“Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play_

_Now I need a place to hide away_

_Oh, I believe in yesterday”_

“Ready?” Dean asked, voice gruff.

“As I’ll ever be,” Sam replied. “Cas?”

“I’m ready,” Cas said, sliding his angel blade from the sleeve of his trench coat.

Dean nodded, briefly, and Cas walked off to where Bobby and the others were.

“I’ll get everyone into position,” Mary said, gently squeezing Dean’s arm, then Sam’s, before following Castiel. None of them acknowledged that this might be the last interaction the three of them would have.

“Are you sure about this? Setting a trap for Michael? I mean, are we sure that this is going to work?” Sam asked.

Dean fixed his brother with a glare that he hoped would wipe the bitchy look off his face. It didn’t. So Dean said, as harshly as he could manage, “We’ve been through this a dozen times, Sammy. We don’t have much of a choice. We do this, or Jack dies. There’s no other choice. Unless you want to keep feeding him demon blood every time he gets a tickle in his throat.”

Dean realized that he’d hit a nerve when Sam’s bitch face became even more pronounced. He fully expected Sam to deck him one, then and there, but Sam didn’t. His face softened to a mix of sincerity, resolve, and the slightest bit of pity.

“When this is over, Dean…” Sam trailed off briefly before continuing. “I hope you’ll find a way to have some peace.”

And he walked away too.

* * *

_“I need you. I need you, you son of a bitch! You hear me?...Just do it! Don’t you leave me!”_

* * *

“Dean, I’m so sorry,” Sam said, but Dean barely heard him.

“No,” he whispered. “No, Cas. Don’t be dead, please.”

“ _I’m not dead, Dean_ ,” a voice said.

Dean’s eyes snapped open. “Cas?”

_“Yes, Dean. I’m here.”_

“What? Where?”

“Dean?” said a voice from behind him. But when Dean turned, it was Sam who had spoken. “Who are you talking to?”

“I—” Dean started to say, but then bit his lip hard, forcing himself to stop what he was going to say. This couldn’t be real.

 _“You really shouldn’t do that, you know. You’ll hurt yourself,”_ Castiel said.

“Son of a bitch!” he swore.

_“Language, Dean. Please.”_

“Oh, mother _fuck_ er,” Dean growled.

“Dean? What’s going on?” Sam asked, starting to look panicked.

“You don’t hear that?” Dean asked, turning around in circles to try and figure out where Cas’ voice was coming from.

“Hear what?!” Sam said.

“Cas,” Dean repeated, starting to get exasperated.

“What?!” Sam’s expression mirrored Dean’s thought that he might be going crazy, and then the other voice in Dean’s head seemed to confirm just that.

 _“He can’t hear me, Dean,_ ” Cas said, almost mournfully.

“Seriously, what the fuck, Cas? Are you—are you in my head?”

_“In a manner of speaking, yes. And could you please watch your language? I find it rather distasteful.”_

“No way, you fucker. Angels aren’t supposed to have ghosts. Show yourself, dammit!”

“Wait, do you actually think Cas could be here? As a ghost?” Sam asked, his voice changing from concern to mild curiosity. “We’ve never seen that before.”

 _“ **Dean**!” _Cas’ voice said, loud and insistent as if he were standing right next to him. _“I’m not dead. Do you hear me? **Not** **dead**!”_

“Then where are you?” Dean asked, looking all around him.

_“I already told you.”_

“I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

 _“Close your eyes, Dean. Relax._ ”

“But—”

_“Dean.”_

So he closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of Sam in front of him. Dean couldn’t take the range of expressions on his face, like he was torn between being confused, angry, pitiful, or amused. At least he’d get a respite from that.

 _“You need to relax,”_ Cas’ voice said. Dean took a deep breath to steady himself. He let it out, slowly.

 _“Open your eyes,”_ Cas said. Dean did, and suddenly he could see Cas in front of him, a pale mirage compared to the solidarity of the bookshelves behind him.

 _“I’m right here, Dean. With you,”_ Castiel said, with a sad, mournful little smile.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Cas cut him off.

_“You don’t have to actually physically say anything. I can hear what you want to tell me. Just concentrate your thoughts on me. Like you’re praying.”_

_“Cas?”_

The angel Dean saw smiled, the joy in his face reaching all the way to his deep blue eyes.

_“Hello, Dean.”_

_“You’re really here,”_ Dean thought. _“Can Sammy see you?”_

 _“No, just you. As you put it, I’m in your head.”_ Ghost-Cas stepped a little closer. _“I’m glad you’re awake, Dean. And I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you. It took me longer than I expected to shake the aftereffects of Michael’s curse. But I assure you, you shouldn’t have any lasting damage from it.”_

 _“But…what happened, Cas?”_ Dean asked—or thought, still thoroughly confused.

Cas’ smile faltered. _“I can allow you to remember, if you like. It will not be pleasant, but it’s your choice. All of it was.”_

Dean considered for a moment. _“I trust you, Cas. With my life.”_

* * *

_“...I know you’d never hurt me. Please, Cas. Don’t die. I’m begging you here, man, don’t die on me.”  
“Dean, you can’t really mean—”_

_But Castiel was wrong._

_“I do, Cas, I really do. I need you,” Dean had said. His voice broke, but he had to keep going. He had to make sure Cas knew. “I need you. I need you, you son of a bitch! You hear me? So take me as your vessel. Go on, do it. Just **do it!** Don’t you leave me!”_

_A bright flash of blue-white light. A sudden, bone-searing heat. And then the feeling that he was not alone. That he would never again be alone._

* * *

“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m just having a little trouble wrapping my head around this.”

As if to demonstrate the way he felt, Sam set his elbows on his knees and dropped his hands into his head. Dean sat motionless in his own armchair. He knew that Sam would speak again when he was ready, and that Dean was bound to get an earful when he did.

“Okay,” Sam said, several minutes later, raising his head back up again. “Pretend that this isn’t completely crazy for a moment. Why should I believe that Cas is actually alive and…and possessing you, or whatever?”

Dean cocked his head, listening to Cas. Then he spoke.

“Years ago, before you got your soul back, and we were gearing up to storm Crowley’s place, you prayed to Cas to get him there. Except you lied and basically told him the plot to _Raiders_. And then you threatened to kill him if he didn’t help and Cas nearly went all Jack Bauer on your ass.”

“I never told you that,” Sam said, blinking in confusion.

“I know,” Dean said, waiting for the ball to drop.

“Holy shit.”

There it was.


	14. While My Guitar Gently Weeps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for potential trigger warnings!

_“I don't know why nobody told you_

_How to unfold your love_

_I don't know how someone controlled you_

_They bought and sold you”_

“Jack, you don’t need to do this!” Dean yelled. He was sure the only reason he was still standing was because Cas’ mojo was holding him upright. Dean resisted the urge to look at the crumpled forms of his mother and brother, unconscious on the floor of the war room.

“You’ve left me no choice, Dean. Or Cas. Or whoever the fuck you are.” Jack’s voice was pure steel.

“We’re your family!” Dean said, reaching out. “Please, Jack.”

Jack blinked, flicking his eyes to a deep, soulless black.

“Not anymore. I don’t need you anymore. And you certainly have no need for me.”

“You know that ain’t true. Jack, what you’re saying right now, what you’re feeling—this ain’t you.”

“I’m more me than I have been in a long, long time.”

“You’re not. Please, Jack, it’s not too late to stop this. I’ve been where you are. I understand the rage that’s built up inside you. But we can fix this, Jack, just trust me—”

“Trust you?” Jack let out a sharp laugh. “Why the fuck would I do that? Why should I stay here and listen to your bullshit any longer?”

“Because we’re your family,” Dean repeated.

“I have no family,” Jack said, pausing to let the words sink in.

“I guess not,” Dean replied, and Cas’ angel blade fell into his hand.

“You’re going to kill me? Really? Haven’t we been here before?” Jack asked, laughing as though this was funny to him.

Dean didn’t answer, he just lunged forward, blade outstretched. But then Jack was suddenly behind him, pinning his arm behind his back and twisting his wrist so that Dean had no choice but to drop the blade.

“You’ll live to regret this. I promise,” Jack hissed in Dean’s ear. “Fuck you both.”

And Jack vanished.

* * *

“To whom am I speaking now? My old suit, or my prodigal brother?” Michael asked, voice sickeningly velvet. The sound of it bounced back eerily against the walls of the abandoned warehouse.

“Depends. Which one you wanna speak to?”

“You. But first: Castiel, how did you manage to survive my little curse? I’d love to know. That way I can plug that loophole for the next time I need to use it.”

“He says you can shove it up your ass,” Dean paraphrased.

Michael laughed. “I thought as much. Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

And without preamble, Michael whipped the blindfolds off of Lisa and Ben. Dean felt like someone had dropped a ton of bricks on him when he saw the fear in their eyes. Then Michael touched Lisa’s forehead and Ben’s simultaneously, and their expressions changed from fear to realization and back to fear again, but this time with an understanding of why they were there. Michael had torn down the walls Castiel had once placed inside their minds.

“Let them go, you asshole!”

“Not a chance. You see, you’ve been a thorn in my side for far too long. Time for you go away and bother someone else,” Michael said.

“You want me gone badly enough, why don’t you just kill me? No need to bring anyone else into the mix.”

“Oh, but Dean, where would the fun be in that? Besides, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done so a long time ago.”

“Yeah, why didn’t you kill me already? What use could you possibly have for me?” Dean asked, defiant.

“I want you to watch, helpless, as I remake your world. I want you to suffer as you watch everything crumble around you—simply because I can. But you’re stalling, Dean.” Michael snapped his fingers and a bloodied, bound, and gagged Sam and Mary appeared next to him. “Oops. Looks like the cavalry didn’t quite make it in time.”

“You _bastard_.”

“Tsk, tsk. No need for name-calling, Dean.”

“Just get to your point, will you? What do you want from me?” Dean roared.

“I told you, I want you to suffer,” Michael responded coolly. He waved his hand and sent Lisa flying towards Dean. He caught her just before she fell face-first onto the ground.

Dean looked back towards Michael and saw the glint in his eye. He managed to press Lisa’s face away from the archangel, into his chest, as Dean tightened his other arm around her. Dean locked eyes with Ben, saw the depth of the unspoken things trapped in his eyes, before Michael snapped his fingers again. And Ben was gone, obliterated.

* * *

“It’s time, Dean,” Sam said softly from the doorway. Dean didn’t answer, just held on to the bundle in his arms and kept his jaw clenched tight.

 _“Dean_ ,” Cas said, gently prodding him.

“I’m not ready,” Dean whispered, though to Cas, or Sam, or the sleeping baby in his arms, he didn’t know.

 _“It will be alright_ ,” Cas said.

Without saying anything else, Dean stood, still cradling his child. He turned to face his brother, and walked from the room, leaving Lisa’s lifeless body behind without a second glance.

* * *

“Are you sure that this is what you want?” Dean asked, for the dozenth time.

“Yes, Dad. I’m sure.” Jude rolled her eyes at him.

“I saw that,” Dean said, even though he never took his eyes off the road in front of them.

“You cheated,” Jude said, scowling. Dean couldn’t help but chuckle. She ignored him, choosing to turn up the volume of the radio instead. Dean could hear her softly sing along to the music, bad mood already forgotten.

 _“She’s ready, Dean. She’ll have to face this sooner or later,”_ Cas said just to him. Sometimes Cas would allow Jude to hear him too, but not this time. Dean didn’t really get how Cas did it, only that it had something to do with his grace and Jude’s being connected.

 _“You can’t expect me to be thrilled about taking our kid on her first hunting trip,_ ” Dean thought. _“She might look eighteen, but c’mon, she’s only been alive for six months. That’s not something I’ll ever get used to.”_

“ _I know. I feel the same way. It felt selfish to reach out to her mind, even as newborn, and explain to her that she had to grow up so fast_ ,” Cas replied.

 _“Trust me, I know. I was there.”_ Dean said.

 _“Are you making a joke?”_ Cas asked. Dean could almost see Cas in the back seat, tilting his head in confusion.

_“Okay, I am officially allowing you free range of anything in my brain that will help you figure out how sarcasm works.”_

_“It’s alright, Dean. I will learn eventually.”_ Cas said. Dean felt something warm touch his shoulder for a brief moment, as if Cas had patted his arm. Dean drove in silence for another minute before he spoke to Cas again.

_“I held my baby girl in my arms for two hours, Cas. That was all of the childhood that she’ll ever get. That’s less than I ever got, less than Sammy even.”_

_“I know. But she’s made her choice._ ”

* * *

It cost Dean everything he had to stop Jude from trying to bring Mary back. But there’d been no body for Jude and Cas to repair. Michael made sure of that. Besides, Billie had warned them all a long time before that she wouldn’t let any of the Winchesters come back from the dead again. And a part of Mary had died with Bobby anyways.

Dean stood in silence as he, Sam, and Jude watched the photograph of Mary burn. There wasn’t anything else to set on the pyre, but Mary Campbell Winchester deserved a hunter’s wake. Even if she had never wanted that life.

* * *

The day that Jack punched his fist into Sam’s chest and pulled out his still-beating heart, Dean’s felt like his heart had been pulled from him too. His heart was broken, for good this time. He knew it before Sammy’s body even hit the floor. Dean felt painfully empty and yet full to the brim at the same time, as he watched Jude slap her hand on Jack’s temple and he burned from the inside out. Jack screamed in agony as he died, but Dean knew that it was nothing compared to the anguish burning inside of him. Nothing ever could. He’d failed completely this time. Nothing else seemed to matter.

* * *

“If you do this, I’ll never see you again,” Dean said.

“I know, Dad. But this is the only way,” Jude replied.

Cas whispered his agreement inside Dean’s mind. _“She’s right. You know she is.”_

 _“Will it work?”_ Dean asked him.

_“Yes.”_

_“Okay. I’ll go along with it. But Cas? The second she’s gone, so am I…I can’t live without her too.”_

There was a slight pause before Cas responded. “ _Neither can I.”_

* * *

Dean watched, as if from a great distance, as Jude touched two fingers lightly on his forehead.

_“Hey, Dad. Hey, Cas.”_

At the sound of her voice inside his mind, Dean smiled for the fist time in a very long time.

_“I love you guys.”_

_“We love you too, kid.”_ Dean said. _“Say hey to Sammy for me, will you?”_

_“Yeah, ‘course.”_

_“You’ll be careful, won’t you?”_ Cas said, worried.

 _“I always am.”_ There was a pause where none of them knew what to say, and then Jude spoke again. _“See you both on the other side."_

Dean watched, still feeling disconnected from reality, as Jude stepped towards the sigil glowing bright on the bunker’s floor. She briefly touched the amulet round her neck, took a deep breath, and took a step through the portal. As Jude began to disappear, still facing away from him, Dean raised the cold piece of metal he held to his chest.

 _“I love you,”_ was the last thought his brain registered, as he drove the angel blade into his heart. Dean would never know if it was his thought or Cas’, only that it was the last thing he would ever know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Main characters in an alternate timeline die. Also (spoiler) it is implied that a character in the alternate timeline commits what is essentially murder/suicide. Non-graphic, just sad.


	15. With a Little Help From My Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes in the darkness. The only sounds are of his breathing, and Cas’. Part of him doesn’t want to accept that what he saw was real, but deep down he knows that it was. 

_“What would you think if I sang out of tune?_

_Would you stand up and walk out on me?”_

The cold shock of the bunker floor against Dean’s knees is the only thing that jerks him back to reality. He’s gasping for breath, blood pounding, sick to his stomach. Dean looks up to see that the bubble Jude placed around them had fallen away. She sits on the steps to the library, forearms resting on her knees, with a dead look in her eyes.

“Dean!”

Cas catches him before he tips sideways and pushes him upright. Dean’s too weak, or too much in shock to support himself, and he leans back against Cas’ chest, legs sprawled out in front of him.

“What did you do?” Sam yells at Jude.

“I gave him the truth,” she says, stoically. The haunted look in her eyes doesn’t go away.

“Everything—all of that—that was real?” Dean asks, somehow managing to find his voice.

“Yes.”

“What did you show him?” Cas demands.

“Every memory that he gave to me before I left,” she answers, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Everything I kept from you on the night I arrived here.”

Dean’s stomach churns at her words.

“Those were my memories? All of them?”

“Yes,” Jude says.

“But the last one—” Dean can’t finish what he was going to say. Can’t get the words out.

“They didn’t break the connection between us before I stepped all the way through the portal. Their minds went dark before I got here.”

Dean has just enough time to twist sideways in Cas’ arms before he pukes his guts out onto the war room floor. His ears barely register the _whoosh_ as Jude disappears.

* * *

Dean wakes in the darkness. The only sounds are of his breathing, and Cas’. Part of him doesn’t want to accept that what he saw was real, but deep down he knows that it was.

He refused to tell Cas or anyone else what he saw. He simply sat there, leaning against Cas, in too much shock to move. Dean let Cas clean up the mess that he had made with a wave of his hand and zap him back to his room. He knew that there was no way he was getting back there on his own. Dean felt his chest tighten as he watched Cas remove his boots for him, just like the angel had done for Jude only a couple of weeks prior.

“Stay with me, Cas. Please,” Dean whispered, before finally letting Cas’ grace wash over him and send him into a dreamless slept.

When he awoke, Dean found that Cas wasn’t sitting in the chair next to the bed like he’d done before. Instead, he sits next to where Dean lies, back against the headboard and with his head tipped back against the wall. Dean turns over onto his back so that he can see the angel more easily. Cas’ white dress shirt stands out against the dark of the room. He must have removed his coat and jacket at some point.

“What time is it?” Dean whispers.

“A little after three in the morning,” Cas replies.

“Fuck,” Dean says softly.

“Are you sure that you don’t want to tell me what she showed you? It could help,” Cas says. Dean hears the soft rustle of clothes as Cas lifts his head from the wall and looks over to the hunter.

“No,” Dean says, shaking his head. “Not all of it, at least.”

“I’m here for whatever you need, Dean.”

Dean is silent for a few minutes before he finally speaks.

“They were all dead, Cas. All of them. Mom, Sam, Jack. It was just you and me and Jude left. And then she left too. And I let her. I told her to go.” Dean’s voice breaks in the last sentence.

“That’s not even the worst of it, Cas. Oh God, Cas, the things that happened for us to get to that point…We can’t ever let that happen. Promise me, Cas. Promise me that we’ll never let it get that bad.”

“I promise,” Cas says, lightly resting a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

When Dean wakes for a second time, he’s on his side, curled up against Cas. His head is nestled on Cas’ shoulder, arm thrown over Cas’ waist. Cas’ arm is wrapped gently around him, holding him tight. Dean knows that even though Cas’ head laid flat on a pillow, eyes closed, he’s not sleeping. Angels didn’t need to sleep. Dean knows that Cas chose to stay with him. And in that moment, he doesn’t care that he’s snuggled up like some chick against his best friend. He feels safe. That was all that matters. Dean smiles, and lets himself slide into sleep once more.

* * *

Cas never mentions the night that Jude left, never brings up the way that Dean fell asleep next to him. Neither does he mention how Dean will catch the angel’s wrist for the briefest of moments before he goes to bed, in silent invitation for Castiel to join him. The words between them remain unspoken, but for the time being, it’s a comfortable silence.

If Sam notices the fact that Cas spends his nights in Dean’s room, he never says anything either. Sam only mentions Jude’s departure once, but the moment he sees the angry, ugly look on Dean’s face, he drops it. After, Sam only ever brings up Jude’s name when they talked about how they're going to find her.

“We can’t just let her wander around the earth, Dean,” Sam says, after Dean looked like he was going to tell Sam to shut it.

Three weeks after Jude left, Dean and Sam are in some crappy motel room, getting ready to leave after chasing down another fruitless lead. There’s a slight _whoosh_ of wings, and Dean turns, expecting Castiel, but instead it’s Jude leaning against the wall.

“Hey, kid,” Dean says, the anger at her departure melting away to relief the instant he saw her. But then Jude looks up at him, dark circles under her bloodshot eyes, and the anger swells back up inside him again.

“Are you drunk?” he asks, a little harsher than he meant.

“I—don’t know,” she mumbles, before swaying dangerously.

“Sam!” Dean calls, as he rushes forward to catch his daughter in his arms before she hits the ground.

Sam pokes his head out of the bathroom, takes one glance at the scene that was unfolding before him, and sprints over to them.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I don’t know, she just showed up here,” Dean says, surprised to hear the panic in his voice. 

_“Cas, if you can hear me, come quick, please, oh shit,”_ Dean prays silently, and moments later, Castiel materializes before them. He takes one look at Jude, unconscious in Dean’s arms, Sam’s wide-eyed look of concern, and before Dean can blink again, they’re back in the bunker’s infirmary.

Gently, Cas lifts Jude from Dean’s arms as if she weighs nothing more than a rag doll, and carries her over to one of the white hospital-style beds. He sets her down, places a hand over her forehead, and furrows his brow. The tortured look on Jude’s sleeping face relaxes, and Cas steps away, finally turning to face Dean.

“What happened to her?” Dean asks, voice hoarse.

“My best guess? She spent the last three weeks consuming copious amounts of alcohol. It is fortunate that she is only partially human,” Cas says, with an edge to his normally composed, gravelly voice.

Dean sits down on the edge of the bed next to Jude’s.

“Son of a bitch,” he whispers.

“I also believe that she was heavily under the affects of marijuana,” Cas says. For a wild moment, Dean pictures the perpetually stoned Castiel he saw in the future Zachariah zapped him to. It makes him feel like someone had punched him in the gut.

Cas seems to sense Dean’s discomfort, even if he doesn’t know its exact source, so he says soothingly, “Don’t worry, Dean. I’ve erased all traces of the toxins from her body. She should be fine.”

Dean doesn’t know how to respond, so he settles instead for joking, “You could tell everything she was on just with a single touch to the forehead?”

“No. It was the smell,” Cas replies. Dean sniffs the air, and yep, there it is: the stale odor of whiskey and beer and pot. How did he not notice that earlier?

Dean’s phone begins to buzz, tearing him away from his thoughts. He pulls his cell out of his pocket, blinking in confusion when Sam’s name pops up on the screen. Dean takes one look around and realizes that Cas must have left Sam behind when he zapped them back here.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean says as he answers the phone. “Sorry about that, I guess Cas wanted to get Jude back to the bunker as quick as possible.”

 _“It’s alright, Dean. How is she?”_ he hears Sam’s voice ask.

“She’s fine now, I guess,” Dean answers.

_“What the hell happened to her, anyway? Where’d she go?”_

“On a bender,” Dean snaps. “A massive one, seems like.”

_“Oh God. Like the time Cas found a liquor store and drank it?”_

“Worse.”

 _“Jesus,”_ Sam swears.

“Yeah, guess she inherited some bad habits from the both of us.”

Sam is silent on the other end of the line for a moment before he speaks again. _“She’ll be okay, Dean.”_

“Yeah, I know, Sammy,” Dean says, but the words felt hollow when he said them. “Need Cas to come pick you up?”

_“No, I’ll drive back. It’s only a couple hours away.”_

“Okay. Just don’t mess with the presets on my radio.” Dean hears Sam chuckle lightly before he hangs up the phone.

* * *

“Handcuffs? Really?” Jude asks, tugging uselessly at the shiny metal trapping her wrist to the bed frame.

“You bet your ass, really,” Dean answers, scowling down at her.

“Sure you don’t wanna just finish the job and toss me in the dungeon ’til I dry out?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Dean says.

“There’s no need,” Cas interjects, Jude’s sarcasm utterly lost on him. “I took care of that for you already.”

“So the cuffs are in case I’m a flight risk? You two do realize that I’m a nephilim, right? These won’t hold me. Minute you turn your back, I can poof outta here like it’s nothing.”

“Guess again, genius. Enochian spellwork. We made them months ago to contain Jack, just in case, but I figure they’ll hold you too.” _That_ certainly wipes the smirk off of Jude’s face.

“Fine. What do you want from me?”

“For starters, where the hell have you been the last three weeks?”

“I needed some space.”

“Bullshit.”

“Dean,” Cas says, warningly.

“What? It is!”

“Perhaps there is a better way to handle this.”

“What, you two gonna try and parent me now?” Jude says, sneering up at them. Dean has a sudden urge to smack the back of her head, like he would have done with Sam, but he refrains himself. Jude was purposely trying to get under his skin.

“Think what you like. We just wanna get to the bottom of all of this,” he says, crossing his arms across his chest. Dean feels strangely proud of himself for not taking the bait.

Jude eyes him thoughtfully for a moment.

“I did need some space. And then I started chasing down a lead.”

“A lead?” Dean and Cas ask simultaneously.

“Yeah. Another way to save Jack. It was something we were going to try, in my future.”

“And?” Dean prompts.

“And Michael knew we were going for it, so he made it impossible,” Jude says in an exasperated tone.

“Of course he did.”

“And then everything’s a little fuzzy after that, ‘cause a case wasn’t enough of a distraction,” Jude continues.

“Wanna share with us what exactly your lead is?”

“Not right now, no.”

“What?”

Jude sighs before answering. “I’ll tell you what it is—if you tell Cas what I showed you before I bailed.”

“No. No friggin’ way,” Dean says.

“Why?” Cas asks, directing his question at Jude.

“Until you tell him, neither of you will really get why I had to get as far the hell away from the both of you when I did,” Jude explains, speaking directly to Dean. “You think you understand now? You have no freaking clue. You have no freaking clue how painful it is to look at you, and see my father’s face, and know that you’re not that man. That you’ll never be him—that I _hope_ you’ll never be him.”

The tears in Jude’s eyes begin to fall, silently, as she turns to Cas. “And you? I never knew your vessel’s face, but I know your true one. I could see it, just past my other father’s, whenever we spoke. I can see it now. And it isn’t any easier to speak to you in this form. Because I know your voice too, the one you use through this vessel. And I can sense your grace—I can _feel_ it, calling out to mine. Do you think that’s easy for me to ignore?”

Neither of them speak, they just stand there as Jude continues to speak her mind.

“I tried pushing down the memories of the last time I saw my fathers, the last time I heard them, but I couldn’t do it anymore, not after I showed them to you. Something like that? You can’t unsee it. You can’t _ever_ forget that. And it doesn’t matter that they never intended for me to know, because I still knew.”

“Jude,” Dean whispers, reaching his hand out to her.

“No! Don’t. Just leave me the hell alone,” she snaps. And she begins to cry in earnest. Dean stares, dumfounded, no clue how to react.

“May I at least allow you to sleep, before we leave?” Cas asks her, his tone gentle.

“Whatever,” Jude says, wiping her cheek with the back of her free hand. But when Cas reaches a hand out to her, she catches his wrist in a vice-like grip. “If I let you do this, you never mention it again.”

“Deal.”

“And I meant it when I said that he’s gotta tell you the truth.”

“Of course,” Cas promises. With that, Jude relaxes her grip and allows Cas to touch her forehead, forcing her into a heavy, dreamless sleep.


	16. Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last words come out in a half-choked sob. Cas’ face seems to blur in front of him, and it’s not until he’s caught up in the angel’s arms does Dean realize he’s crying. They both are.

_“I’ll remember all the little things we’ve done_

_She’ll remember and she’ll miss her only one”_

“I don’t know if I can do this, Cas,” Dean says, voice barely above a whisper. He’s strung out over the stress of the last three weeks, not to mention the events of the last few hours.

“Do what? Tell me the truth of what you saw?”

Dean nods.

“I rescued you from hell, Dean. I’ve been inside your head. I’ve seen your soul. There is nothing you can say to me that would make me think less of you.”

“You might change your mind after I tell you this.”

“Have faith in me, Dean. Please.”

“I do, Cas. Believe me, I do. I just don’t know if I can say this out loud.”

“I can always—” Cas starts, but Dean cuts him off before he can finish.

“No. I mean, as much as I’d prefer you to just lay your mojo on me and pick the words outta my head, I don’t think that’s gonna fly this time. It’d be—” Dean pauses, as a sudden memory pops into his mind. “It’d be cheating.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just…just something Jude would say if we did it that way.”

Cas nods, gravely. Then with a wave of his hand, the two are in Dean’s room, secluded from the rest of the world.

“I thought you would like some privacy.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says. “D’you think it’d make me a hypocrite to drink while we have this conversation?”

“Well, as long as you don’t drink an entire liquor store,” Cas says, as he _whooshes_ away for a fraction of a second before reappearing with two glasses, each with a generous helping of whiskey.

“You sure do love having those wings, huh?” Dean asks, as he takes the glass that Cas offered him and took a large gulp.

“Yes. But you’re stalling.”

Dean shoots him a withering look, then downs the rest of his whiskey. Cas snaps his fingers, and the glass is suddenly refilled.

“Awesome,” Dean says, before taking another sip.

“Okay,” he says, sitting down on the edge of his bed and gesturing for Cas to sit in the chair across from him. The angel does, and takes a drink from his own glass.

“Whenever you’re ready, Dean,” Cas says, his voice lower than usual. Dean clears his throat, but whenever he looks into Cas’ eyes, he can’t get the words out. So instead, he drops his gaze to the floor, and forces himself to speak.

“So you know how in Jude’s future, Michael does some whammy on you, and I invite you in so you can have a vessel and not, you know, die?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Well, I don’t know what she showed you, but what she showed me were my memories. Or future me’s memories,” Dean says.

“Jude showed me my future self’s memories as well, though something tells me that we may not have seen all of the same things.”

“Did she show you how the two of you could speak to each other? Like telepathically?”

“Yes. It seems our grace was very tuned to the other’s,” Cas says, thoughtfully. “Not like how angel radio in general affects her and Jack.”

“Right. Well. Um.” Dean chokes down another burning gulp of whiskey. “I guess right before she left, you had one of those mind-connection thingies going. Except I was looped in.”

Dean looks up when Cas doesn’t respond. The angel stares at him with that intense, soul-piercing gaze. Cas nods slightly, prompting Dean to continue.

“Did Jude—did she show you exactly what happened before she decided to leave?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did she show you the way Sammy died? Or Mom? Or Jack?” Dean asks. His voice hitches slightly, so Dean drains the rest of his whiskey while he waits for Cas to answer.

“No,” Cas says. “I saw no one’s death, only the moments when Michael cursed my future self, and you asked me to possess you so I could survive. That, and my memories from shortly after Jude was born, and a few other moments that helped explain her purpose here.”

“You got off lucky.”

Cas’ mouth twists into a half-smile, almost ruefully.

“If that’s true, what she showed you must be a thousand times worse. The pain I felt…it was overwhelming, even for an angel.” Cas takes another sip from his whiskey. The gesture is so human, so strangely vulnerable for Castiel, that Dean can’t help but blurt out the words he’d been holding back.

“Michael killed Mom. Jack pulled an Anakin and killed Sam, so Jude took him out. And when she left, I killed you, Cas. I killed myself. Just took your angel blade and rammed it into my chest. That’s the last thing Jude showed me. It’s the last memory she has of us from the future. Our minds were still linked when I did it,” Dean says, in a rush, before he completely breaks. “Cas, our daughter watched me kill us.”

The last words come out in a half-choked sob. Cas’ face seems to blur in front of him, and it’s not until he’s caught up in the angel’s arms does Dean realize he’s crying. They both are.

* * *

Later, after Dean manages to compose himself (with a little help from Cas’ mojo), he returns to the infirmary where Jude is still confined. She sits with her back against the metal headboard, her head tilted back against the wall. One knee is propped up, and her free arm rests upon it. Jude doesn’t look up when Dean comes in, or when he approaches her bed. It isn’t until he undoes the cuffs chaining her to the bed frame that she lifts her head from where she rested it against the wall.

“I told him,” Dean says, without preamble. “You wanna get in my head and see it for yourself?”

“No. I believe you,” Jude replies, rubbing her newly-freed wrist.

They sit in silence for a moment before Dean speaks again.

“So, what’s this lead of yours? How do we save Jack?”

Jude stares at him the exact way that Cas had a few hours before, like she could peer directly into his soul.

“We free Adam Milligan from hell.”


	17. No Reply

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was that saying? ‘The best laid plans of mice and men,’ Dean thinks, trying to shut out the voice in his head that said it. It’s so clearly in Sam’s voice, the tone he reserves for when he wants to be especially pretentiously smug.

_“And I'll forgive the lies that I_

_Heard before, when you gave me no reply”_

“This has got to be one of the stupidest things we’ve ever done.”

“Why? We’ve done some really stupid shit before,” Dean replies.

Sam gives him his very best bitch face. “We do this, and we’re basically waving a giant neon sign in front of Michael’s face that says ‘hey, look, here’s a nephilim, except this time they’re from your future and know exactly how to screw you over.’”

“I don’t like this idea any better than you, Sammy. In fact, I think it’s pretty safe to say that I like it way less than you ever could. But do you have any better ideas?” Dean shoots back, hands clenched on the wheel of the Impala.

“No. You’re right. Jack’s getting worse every day. I don’t think the stasis spell Rowena put on him will be able to last much longer. I guess it really is now or never,” Sam says, with a huge sigh.

“Remind me again why she can’t just come with us?”

“Dean, we don’t need her to put safeguards around the cage like last time. We _want_ to let Adam out, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean mumbled.

“Besides, the spell she gave us to open up the cage doesn’t have to be done by a witch. Anyone can do it.”

“Not anyone, Sam. Not a human. You saw the warning label. Only a witch, a demon, or an angel could wield that amount of power. Rowena didn’t volunteer herself, and we don’t have any demon pals anymore, so who does that leave? Oh right, Cas.”

“He said he was okay with it.”

“Right, because that makes me feel _so_ much better about this.”

“Would you rather it be Jude?” Sam asks, quietly.

Dean doesn’t answer. He stares out at the road ahead of him. Sam seems to sense that what he’d said was a low blow, so he changes the topic. Slightly.

“We’ve got all the ingredients for the spell now. All we have to do is wait for the full moon. Luckily, we’ve only got to wait two weeks.”

Dean still doesn’t respond.

“I was thinking that we should head to Stull Cemetery a day or two early, to set things up,” Sam continues. Dean ignores him.

“Dean, are you ever going to—” But Sam’s phone rings, interrupting whatever he was going to say next.

“It’s Jody,” he says, answering the phone and putting it on speaker.

“ _Sam?”_ the sheriff asks over the line.

“Yeah, Jody. Dean’s here too.”

 _“Oh, good,”_ she says, though her tone was anything but good.

“Jody? What is it?” Sam asks.

_“It’s Claire. She’s gone missing.”_

* * *

They make the drive to Sioux Falls in record time, stopping only for the barest necessities. Dean called Castiel, who wanted to pop out there immediately. Dean told him to wait. According to Jody, Claire had been on edge recently, and it was never clear whether or not the girl ever really wanted to see Cas.

After they arrive, and Jody makes a joke about Sam shaving his beard, she finally confesses that Claire might have taken off after Bad Kaia. Dean trades a glance with Sam, then reaches for his phone before realizing that he doesn’t need to call Castiel anymore and hope that words are enough. Cas has his wings. He can just help them in person. Dean closes his eyes, thinks a silent prayer, and is immediately rewarded by the telltale _whoosh_ of Castiel’s arrival.

“Hello, Dean,” he says, eyes only for him.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean replies, meeting his gaze.

Sam clears his throat. Jody fills the three of them in on the basic details, and they set off through the woods where Claire was last seen.

“Dean, I’m not entirely sure why you want me here,” Cas says, when Sam and Jody are out of earshot.

“Just in case,” Dean says.

“I can’t find her with a snap of my fingers, Dean, if that’s what you were hoping for. Wings or not.”

“It’s not that,” Dean answers. He sighs, and then continues. “You know the weapon that Bad Kaia had? Well, if Claire really went after her, and if she still has the spear…”

Dean doesn’t finish his train of thought. Cas nods, understanding what Dean doesn’t say. They need the spear to kill Michael. And Dean wants Castiel there to help him.

“So Claire was chasing vampires?” Sam asks, having paused long enough for Dean and Cas to catch up.

“Yep,” Jody confirms. “Except not the normal type. It was some of those beefed-up monsters that Michael cooked up. Of course, Claire was pissed at me for the whole Bad Kaia thing, so I had to hear all of this from Patience. Not that Claire told her anything either.”

“Patience is psychic,” Sam explains to Castiel, who nods.

“So she’s the one who knew where Claire disappeared?” Dean asks.

“Yup. Had a vision.”

Dean looks over to say something to Cas, but finds him deep in thought.

“Cas? Hey. Earth to Castiel?” Dean says, waving his hand in front of the angel.

“Hmm?”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine, Dean. What does the earth have to do with any of this?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Never mind that, Cas. What was on your mind?”

“Jude,” Cas says. When he doesn’t elaborate, Dean cocked an eyebrow at him.

“She was speaking to me.”

“Speaking? Like angel radio, speaking to you? ‘Cause Jack couldn’t stand angel radio, they used it against him.”

“No, I’ve told you, it’s not quite like that. The simplest way to explain it would be to say that Jude and I have our own private channel.”

“That’s new,” Dean comments, more curiously than jealously.

“Yes. She wants to know how things are, and what the password to Sam’s Netflix account is,” Cas says.

“What’s she binge-watching this time?” Dean asks.

“Binge-watching?”

“Yeah, you know, watching obsessively,” Dean explains. “Like when you discovered Netflix for the first time.”

“Oh. I don’t know. I’ll ask.”

Cas pulls a thoughtful expression for a few seconds before continuing.

“It seems as though she and Jack are disagreeing over what to watch next.”

Dean smirks. “Of course they are.”

He can almost picture the two of them bickering playfully over control of the remote, just like they’ve been doing every day for the past week.

“Jack wants to watch _The Last Jedi._ Jude wants to watch _Stranger Things_.”

“Who’s Jude?” asks Jody, and Dean realizes with a start that his conversation with Cas has not been private. Absurdly, he feels a blush rise in his cheeks, and he finds himself unable to answer.

“It’s a long story, but she’s family,” Sam answers for him, and Dean feels a rush of gratitude towards his younger brother for once again covering for him.

“Is she a hunter?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Sam hedges, with a glance backwards at Castiel.

“Is she an angel too?” Jody asks, having picked up Sam’s look.

“No, but she’s got…mojo, as Dean would say.”

“Oh…kay,” Jody says. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” Sam answers, with a small smile. None of them mention how they’re purposely keeping Jude out of the loop for this. They all want to keep her as far away from anything even remotely Michael-related for as long as they can.

* * *

After an hour of trudging through the woods, they find Bad Kaia’s hideout. Unsurprisingly, it’s abandoned. Dean picks up some fresh footprints that he thinks might be Claire’s, and they follow them for another couple of hours. The sun begins to set in earnest, but none of them seem willing to stop. They discuss what to do next, but it isn’t until Castiel turns his head sharply to the west that they reach a conclusion.

“She’s this way,” Cas says, jaw set determinedly. He sets off at a brisk jog, so that the others can follow him. Dean is sure that he could have just flown, but maybe Claire isn’t too far away. He doesn’t question how Castiel knows where she was, he just follows him. Dean almost doesn’t notice when Castiel stops abruptly, and nearly runs straight into his back before he stops himself.

“Cas?”

“She was here,” he says, pointing to a spot on the forest floor. Through the dimming light of the setting sun, Dean can see what’s clearly the signs of a struggle, and then drag marks through the underbrush.

“They took her,” Dean says, though Castiel probably knew that already. Sam and Jody catch up with them just in time to hear his proclamation.

“The vampires?” Jody asks, slightly breathless but still managing to be concerned.

“Yes,” Castiel answers. He pauses for a moment, then says, “This way.”

The others follow him at a run. Dean could easily overtaken him if he knew where the hell they were going. Eventually they reach the edge of a small clearing with a long-abandoned hunting cabin.

“She’s in there,” Castiel breathes.

“Is she alive?” Dean asks.

“Yes.”

“How can you tell?” Jody asks, breathless.

“Claire is praying,” Castiel says gravely. “They’re hurting her. She’s asking for help, for relief.”

Dean grips Cas’ arm, afraid that he’ll barge in there without a second thought.

“We need a plan,” he says.

* * *

What was that saying? ‘The best laid plans of mice and men,’ Dean thinks, trying to shut out the voice in his head that said it. It’s so clearly in Sam’s voice, the tone he reserves for when he wants to be especially pretentiously smug. Dean doesn’t really have time to think about that, though. Somehow, despite their last-minute, half-formed plan, they ended up in the basement of the hunting cabin, with at least six vampire bastards bickering over whether to turn them over to Michael or to eat them and be done with it. How shocking. For once, Dean is grateful that Benny isn’t here anymore. He doesn’t want his friend to be a part of all of Michael’s bullshit.

Dean looks over at Sam, hoping beyond hope that his little brother has access to something that will allow him to cut the ropes binding him. Sam shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, and Dean swears internally. Jody is too preoccupied with making sure that Claire is okay, but Dean doesn’t blame her. She is why they were here, after all. Dean turns to Cas, but the fucking leeches had knocked him out. Fully-winged angel or no, he still went down when one of the ‘roided bastards hit him in the back of the head. Dean’s vision went hazy and red at the sight, which is probably why the assholes were able to subdue him. They’re all well and truly fucked now.

There has to be _something_ , Dean thinks. There’s always a way out. One way or another, he can Kobayashi Maru this mother. His mind zig-zags from one possibility to the next, never able to settle on a viable solution. Maybe the only solution is to keep the vampire dick-bags from reaching a conclusion until someone could manages to worm their way out of their bonds? Just as Dean thinks this, Cas’ eyelids flutter.

 _“Cas!”_ Dean prays with all his might. The angel doesn’t wake.

_“Cas! C’mon, wake up! Help us!”_

Castiel’s body twitches slightly, but he doesn’t open his eyes. Dean thinks every dirty curse he knows, as much for the feeling of temporarily relief as it is a distraction for what he feels. Just as Dean thinks that none of them deserved to go out as vampire chow, he feels a small breeze behind him, and the faint pressure of something metal being pressed into his palm. Dean doesn’t bother to think, he just grips the knife tight as whatever handed it to him breezes away again.

Through the dim light of the basement’s bare overhead bulb, Dean sees a shadowy figure appear behind Castiel, pale fingers pressed lightly to his pulse, and then the figure disappears. Dean looks across at Sam, sees his brother’s eyes go wide for a brief second as the mysterious figure must appear behind him. Dean continues to saw at the ropes binding him, hoping against hope that he can free himself before the vampires can make a decision. Of course, it’s too much to ask.

The vampire that seems to be in control of the situation turns to his captives, and Dean feels a twinge of horror as the monster’s eyes flit over him. Eventually they settle on Castiel, still slumped on the floor. The vampire curls his lips into something more of a snarl than a smile, and begins to stalk towards him. Dean cuts more furiously with the knife, almost recklessly, feeling the panic building in him as the gag tied round his head prevents him from screaming out.

Just before he feels the vibration of the ropes, about to break free, someone appears behind the lead vampire, pulling back their head with a sharp grab of their hair. Dean screws his eyes up as a blinding light burns the vampire away. Seconds later, he blinks them open, finding himself staring straight at Jude. The other vamps are frozen in the golden light that emanates from her, holding them still until Jude obliterates them too. Dean never considered her to be dangerous, even with the abilities he knows she has, even though he’s witnessed her power firsthand before this, but in that moment, Dean thinks her the most deadly creature on Earth. He doesn’t know whether to be proud, scared, or relieved as hell.


	18. Get Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Um…thanks? I guess,” Claire says, eyes flicking back and forth between Jude, Dean, and Castiel. Jody does the same, deep in thought like she’s trying to puzzle something out.

_“Get back, get back_

_Back to where you once belonged”_

“Where is somewhere safe?” Jude growled the second the vampires’ bodies hit the ground. By that point Dean managed to finally break free of his ropes and remove his gag. He paused just long enough from untying the still-unconscious Castiel to spit out Jody’s address. The next thing he knows, he's kneeling on the carpet of Jody’s living room, cradling Cas in his arms.

Dean blinks, and then Sam is on the floor near them, rubbing his wrists where they were just bound. Another couple of blinks, and Jody’s sitting on her couch, with Claire’s head and shoulders in her lap. Jody’s grip on her is so tight that Dean can see the whites of her knuckles. Claire’s broken leg is laid out gingerly on the couch on Jody’s other side, and Dean can hear the pain in her breath from across the room as she tries to get air in her lungs with smashed ribs. The three adults stare at each other for a few seconds, at a loss for words, until Jude reappears, covered in soot and grime.

“Castiel?” she asks, though Dean wasn’t sure if she was speaking to the angel or asking about him.

“He’s alive,” Dean answers anyway. In the space of another blink, Jude crouches next to them, a hand on Castiel’s forehead. She closes her eyes, and Dean feels rather than sees the presence of her grace pass through the angel. Cas’ eyes flutter open the second Jude pulls her hand away and opens her own eyes. Some silent exchange passes between them, and Jude turns her attention to Dean.

“Are you hurt?” she asks.

“No, I’m fine,” Dean says.

“Sam?”

“I’m good, Jude, thank you,” he says, getting to his feet. Jude furrows her brows at him in disbelief, her gaze trailing over the bruises on his face, but before she can say anything, Jody interrupts them.

“Sorry, but who the hell are you?”

Dean half-expects Jude’s eyes to flare gold with rage again at Jody’s words, but they don’t. Instead, she calmly gets to her feet and walks over to the couch.

“Jude Winchester,” she says, hand outstretched. The sheriff shakes her hand as if on autopilot, her eyes blatantly staring up at Jude’s face.

“Jody Mills,” she replies, automatically, before turning to look at Sam. “You weren’t kidding when you said she was family. What is she, your long-lost cousin or something?”

Sam chuckles dryly. “Or something.”

“She’s not the sister you never knew you had, is she? ‘Cause she looks just like Dean,” Jody presses.

“Yeah...I’m not their sister,” Jude answers, in a tone that made the resemblance between her and Dean more apparent.

“Okay then…?” Jody prompts, but no one takes the bait.

“What are you doing here, Jude? I mean, we appreciate the rescue and all, but how did you even know where to find us?” Sam asks her, breaking the silent pause in the room.

“Cas,” she says simply, as if that explains everything.

“You used your mojo?” Dean asks, looking between the two of them.

“Yes,” Cas answers, raising himself to a sitting position. Dean releases his hold the angel, mildly irked at the loss of contact before Cas speaks again. “I heard your prayer, Dean. Though I was unable to do much of anything at the time, I managed to reach out to Jude and tell her where we were.”

“You mean through your private angel radio channel thing?” Dean asks, gesturing a finger between Castiel and Jude. Cas nods.

“Not an angel, but yes,” Jude says.

A groan from the other side of the room distracts them all. Claire starts to wake up, the pain of her fractured bones ripping her from her unconscious state. Castiel attempts to get up off of the floor, but Jude waves him away.

“Let me,” she murmurs, walking back to the couch. Jude kneels down near Claire’s head, studying her for a moment, before she touches two fingers briefly to her temple and instantly mends Claire’s injuries. Claire opens her eyes.

“Dean?” she asks groggily, before her vision refocuses. “Whoa, not Dean. Unless you’re a chick now. And also younger.”

“Hey now,” Dean says, standing up so that Claire can see him. He reaches down and pulls Cas upright with one hand.

“There you are, gramps,” Claire smiles.

Jude tilts her head in a very Castiel-like gesture. “I don’t understand.”

“That makes two of us,” Claire says, sitting up. “Jody? What’re we doing here? How did—”

“We just saved your ass after you ran off without telling anyone,” Jody scolds. “Really, Claire? An entire nest of vampires?”

“Hey, don’t give me that look. I didn’t exactly intend to get ambushed there, alright?”

“Speaking of, shouldn’t we go do something about the bodies?” Sam cuts in, trying to prevent either Jody or Claire from erupting in a full shouting match.

“I already took care of that,” Jude says, standing up. She gestures at the soot covering her clothes, then seems to notice the mess she tracked across Jody’s carpet. With a _snap_ of her fingers, the ashy footprints are gone, and Jude and the rug are clean again.

“The hell?” Claire practically yells.

“Easy, Smokey Bear, I made sure that only the vampires’ bodies were burned. No forests were harmed in the cleaning of your mess,” Jude says, voice dripping in snark.

“No, not that,” Claire says as she jumps up. “What the hell are you?”

“She’s family,” Dean says, stepping slightly in front of Jude.

“Yeah, I can see the resemblance, Maury. What I don’t get is _what_ she is and why she’s here!”

“Claire,” Cas intones, stepping forward. “Jude is not a threat to any of us. She saved us, and she healed you. I trust you remember what the vampires did to you?”

“That was you?” Claire asks, genuinely surprised.

“I can always re-break your leg if you want,” Jude grumbles.

“Really?” Dean says turning to look at her, at the same time Cas scolds, _“Jude_. _”_

“What?” she asks, bristling like a cat with her ire.

“I don’t think that would be necessary. Or helpful,” Castiel says to her, even though he could’ve just _thought_ it to her through their mojo mind-link. Dean has the feeling that Cas is speaking aloud for his benefit. Jude heaves a sigh, but she doesn’t fight back.

“I wasn’t actually going to break your leg again,” she says to Claire. Her tone is grumpy, but the sincerity is clear.

“Um…thanks? I guess,” Claire says, eyes flicking back and forth between Jude, Dean, and Castiel. Jody does the same, deep in thought like she’s trying to puzzle something out.

“What did the vampires want from you, anyway?” Sam asks, once again trying to break their train of thought. Bless that overgrown moose of a man.

“Hm? Oh, they thought I knew where Kaia’s killer might be. And they kept mentioning a spear?” answers Claire, distractedly.

“Did they know where it was?” Dean asks in a rush.

“No, that’s why they kept trying to smash me to pieces,” Claire says sardonically. “What was up with them, anyway? They seemed even freakier than the usual vamps.”

Jody insists on making them all tea before the conversation continues. Dean takes a polite sip of his, barely managing to hide his look of disgust when Jody’s back is turned. He tries to slide his mug over to Jude, but she flashes him a look reminiscent of one of Cas’ bitch faces and he stops.He must have looked sheepish, because Jude waves her fingers subtly in the direction of their mugs before Jody can turn around again, and Dean’s cup is suddenly filled with cocoa instead of tea. Dean mouthes a “thank you” at her, and is rewarded with a brief smile. Cas scowls at them for a moment across the table, then shakes his head slightly and turns away, suppressing a knowing grin. The lucky bastard declined Jody’s offer of tea on the premise that he was an angel and didn’t need to drink anything.

Sam, hippie that he is, seems to genuinely enjoy the bland herbal nonsense that he’s drinking. Dean thinks he’d probably drink steamed grass and like it. He mentally contemplates how he can manage to turn Sam’s obsession with rabbit food into a prank while his brother speaks. Sam gives Claire a brief and vague explanation of Michael’s monsters on steroids, tactfully leaving out the fact that Dean was his vessel at the time. Dean almost feels guilty for concocting ways to replace Sam’s multivitamins with gummy bears when he realizes that Sam is trying, yet again, to protect him.

“And this Michael guy is afraid of that spear the vampires were talking about?” Claire asks.

“That’s what we think,” Dean says, feeling like he should contribute in some way to the conversation.

“So you’re going to what, use the spear to try and kill Michael?” Jody asks.

“Possibly,” Sam hedges. “We don’t really have any leads on it.”

“Yeah, you guys have seemed kinda preoccupied the last couple months,” Jody says, with just the briefest glance at Jude.

“Jack’s sick,” Dean says abruptly. “We’ve been trying to work out a way to heal him without drawing Michael’s attention.”

“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” Jody says, distracted.

“Since when do you need help healing people?” Claire accuses, directing her question at Castiel.

“This is something greater than what I can heal,” Cas says.

“But what about Jude here? She seems pretty capable of healing people,” Claire pushes.

“I can’t help either, even if Jack and I are both nephilim. Believe me, if I could’ve, I would’ve already,” Jude says. Her tone is so matter-of-fact that it takes Dean a second to realize why Jody and Claire are so appalled. _Shit_ , he thinks.

“Wait, what?” Claire asks, eyes wide.

“Your long-lost cousin or whoever is a nephilim?” Jody says.

“I’m not their cousin,” Jude protests.

“Then who—”

“Oh, she’s from the future,” Dean says, like it’s the most ordinary thing ever. Might as well rip the Band-Aid off now, right?

“What the hell?” Claire squeaks.

“I’m from a timeline that we’re trying to prevent from existing,” Jude says.

“Wait just a second here—you said you were a nephilim?” Jody asks.

“The singular form is ‘naphil,’” Jude corrects. “But yes.”

Claire waves a hand dismissively. “Whatever. It means that your mom or dad or whoever was an angel?”

“Yes,” Jude says, eyes squinty.

Dean watches as both Claire and Jody look from Jude, to Cas, and back again. Jude might be dressed like a tried-and-true hunter, and her freckles and the shape of her cheekbones might mirror Dean’s, but that expression right now—it’s all Cas.

 _Shit,_ Dean thinks. Again.

“Holy fuck,” Claire blurts out. She stares at Castiel in disbelief. “Are you—is she—you’re— _W_ _hat_?!”

“In Jude’s future, I am the angel that she gets her grace from. However, Dean is what you could call her ‘biological’ father,” Cas explains, air quotes and all.

“Wait, how does that work?” Jody says, gesturing between Dean and Castiel.

“I had a human mother,” Jude says, the tone of her voice a mix of irritation and amusement.

“In that timeline, I was Cas’ vessel,” Dean adds. “Michael tried to kill Cas, so I invited him in. To save him.”

Jody smiles sadly at him. “That was really selfless of you, Dean.”

Dean shrugs, but he knows his face is anything but impassive.

“Yeah, well. It’s Cas.”

“And know you have a kid together,” Jody says, eyebrows high in either shock or amusement.

“I knew it! I knew you two were a thing,” Claire exclaims, jumping up from her seat and jostling the table. Jody and Sam’s upturned tea spilling all over the place almost makes Dean’s embarrassment worth it.


	19. Nowhere Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not ignoring you. I’m just choosing not to talk about it,” Dean says, his tone flat.
> 
> “Seriously?”

_“Nowhere Man, don’t worry_

_Take your time, don’t hurry_

_Leave it all till somebody else lends you a hand”_

“They took that surprisingly well,” Sam comments, as they make the drive back to the bunker.

“Mmm-hmm.” Dean doesn’t take his eyes off the road. Castiel and Jude offered to zap all of them and the car back with them, but Dean declined. He needed the peace of the road, and something told him that Sam was going to feel the need to get something off his chest. Better he do it now than when they might have an audience.

“So we’re going to do this again?” Sam asks. It’s starting.

“Do what, Sammy?” Dean asks, feigning ignorance.

“ _This_. You ignoring me,” Sam snaps.

“I’m not ignoring you. I’m just choosing not to talk about it,” Dean says, his tone flat.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously,” Dean shoots back.

“Dean, you’ve got to stop shutting people out. You have to actually talk to people when something bothers you.”

“Sam—”

“No, I mean it, Dean. You can’t keep doing this every time something comes up—”

“Sam.”

“What?”

Dean sighs. “I’m not shutting people out, okay? I just…don’t want to talk about it. Here. With you.”

Sam raises his brows. “Wait, you’re actually opening up to someone?”

“Shut it, Sammy.”

“Is it Cas?”

“Of course it’s Cas,” Dean says, irritated. “Our kid from the future just met his vessel’s daughter, of course I’m gonna talk with him about it.”

“Oh.”

There’s silence, except for the rumble of the Impala’s engine. Dean doesn’t dare break it. He doesn’t know what Sam would say next, and even though he wishes the conversation would be over, he knows it won’t be. Even if Dean turns the radio on, it would just delay the inevitable. Finally Sam speaks again.

“I’m glad you guys are talking,” he says quietly.

“Me too,” Dean says. And to his surprise, Sam switches the radio on, the conversation done for now.

* * *

“So you’re sure that the spear isn’t our best option?” Dean asks, still in denial over what Jude told him.

“I didn’t say that. I said that we don’t need it to rescue Adam,” Jude says. “I’m sure it would help us against Michael, but I don’t see the need for it now.”

Dean knows that she was right, but he doesn’t like it. The idea of letting her and Cas waltz into hell and break Adam out makes him feel itchy all over. He knows that he’s been grumpier as the day approached, and now with only two days to go until the full moon, his nerves are a live wire.

“Would you quit it? That’s got to be the dozenth time you’ve checked your damn duffle,” Jude says, distracting Dean from his thoughts. He shoots her a glare, even though he knows full well she was right. God, if only he could be as calm as she appears to be right now.

“I just don’t want to forget anything, alright?” he says, defensively.

“Yeah, okay,” she replies, sensing his anxiety. Dean stops obsessively checking his duffle bag and slumps into the seat across from Jude. The war room table is littered with books and notes and diagrams and who knows what from their research. Sam pinned the most important things to a bulletin board he’d found in storage. Every time Dean looks at it, his head throbs.

The plan is to go back to Stull Cemetery, the exact spot where Sam jumped into the Cage with Lucifer and dragged Adam/Michael along with him. They don’t have the Horsemen’s rings this time, but Sam and Rowena found a spell to open up a portal of sorts to the Cage. Dean would go through it himself if he could survive the trip, but apparently “no mere mortal” can pass through the portal and live. Or not get stuck in hell. Or something like that. Whatever it is, it means that Castiel can go through, but not Dean. No one wants Cas to go in alone, and since Rowena isn’t lining up for the job, and Jack is down for the count, that leaves Jude. At least Rowena doesn’t know about Jude, as far as Dean knows anyway. The thought that at least Dean can protect her from a power-hungry sometimes-ally of a witch isn’t reassuring enough to qualm the anxious thoughts about letting Jude stroll into hell and attempt to bargain with the pissed-off archangel currently holding his half-brother captive. Not that Dean could stop her. Jude made her choice a long time ago.

* * *

Jude chooses to ride in the back seat of the Impala as they make their way to Lawrence. Dean knows that she could’ve just flown here, and Cas too, but the pair of them seem content to take the long way. Mary and Bobby are waiting back at the bunker with Jack. If things go right, the kid can wait another few hours. If things don’t…well, it’s best to keep them away.

Cas assures Dean once again that Michael won’t be able to sense Jude’s power, since he will be the one saying the spell. Once they cross through the portal, Michael won’t be able to sense Cas or Jude. And as far as any of them know, Michael isn’t in any hurry to come near his counterpart from this world. He’s still keeping his cards close to the vest. This whole thing is still risky, though. Dean doesn’t like it, and everyone knows it. The sooner this is done, the better.


	20. Across the Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “In all this time, have you come up with a better insult than ‘ass-butt,’ brother?” Michael says in a soft voice, the mocking in it not reaching his eyes. 

_"Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes_

_They call me on and on across the universe"_

Castiel wonders if he should have done something more to reassure Dean. When words failed to assuage the worried look on the hunter’s face, Castiel couldn’t think of anything else to do but give Dean’s hand a quick squeeze. He hadn’t held it for long, though. Not with the possibility that Sam would see.

The portal opens without much incident. It was no terrifying thing, really, just a gaping black hole in the ground. Not unlike the door that opened up all those years ago. This time, however, there are stairs to take. Castiel hadn’t actually seen Sam take his swan dive into the Cage, but he gathers that it wasn’t like this that time around.

As soon as Castiel descends the stairs, Jude at his heels, the world shifts. If he looks up, he can dimly see the Kansas sky and tufts of brownish grass at the edge of the abyss’ entrance. Somewhere up there, Sam and Dean are watching, waiting for them to emerge. Castiel wonders if they could see them like he and Jude can see the outside world, like they were looking up from the bottom of a muddy pond. Maybe the brothers can’t see into the portal at all. Maybe it’s better that way.

Castiel shakes his head imperceptibly to clear his thoughts. The tunnel they appear to be in is almost too dark to make anything out, but not nearly as dark as the Empty was. Even though neither he nor Jude need a light, Castiel lifts a dormant torch from its sconce and ignites it with a thought. The dull orange light casts strange shadows on the tunnel walls, but the illusion of warmth it provides is some small comfort. One glance at Jude tells Castiel that she feels the same. They proceed onwards until they are a few feet away from the Cage, and it isn't until the torchlight illuminates the dirty face inside that it looks up.

“Castiel,” his brother says.

“Michael,” he returns.

“In all this time, have you come up with a better insult than ‘ass-butt,’ brother?” Michael says in a soft voice, the mocking in it not reaching his eyes.

“I didn’t feel the need to insult you just now,” Castiel says.

“Hmm.” Michael makes the ghost of a laugh. “So if you’re not here to insult me, why are you here?”

Castiel cuts right to the chase. “We need your help.”

This time Michael does let out a small laugh, low in his throat and utterly without mirth.

“Of course. And who is ‘we,’ yourself and the Winchesters?”

“Yes,” Castiel says, opting to not get into specifics.

“Still hanging around them like a lost puppy, I see.”

“Cas is so much more than that,” Jude says.

“Oh? And who are you, then?” Michael asks, appearing to notice Jude for the first time. His eyes, so lifelessly dull a moment ago, now sparkle with the hint of curiosity.

Castiel wants nothing more than to tell Michael that it was none of his business, but that probably won’t help their cause. Honesty seems to be the best course here.

“This is Jude. My daughter,” Castiel says, with a small note of pride on the last word.

“I thought your vessel’s daughter was named Claire,” Michael says. Castiel bites back the shock of finding out that Michael recalled a detail like that. It was nothing but useless minutiae to him, surely.

“Jude is not my daughter’s vessel,” Castiel says, knowing that the sooner he conceded this fact, the better. “She is the child of my grace.”

At his words, Jude allows her eyes to glow gold for a fraction of a second before returning them to her normal brown hue. It’s enough to emphasize Castiel’s words, and for Michael to get the idea.

“A naphil? My, Castiel, how you really have fallen,” Michael says, but strangely there is almost no mocking to his tone.

“I am content amongst humanity,” Castiel replies, unsure of where Michael is leading the conversation.

“You always did love them more than your own brethren.”

“The Winchesters are my family.”

“Of course. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Running errands for them?”

Castiel has just enough time to through a hand in front of Jude to stop her. One of her hands is already around the hilt of an angel blade, but the steel in her eyes doesn’t come from the shine of her powers. The anger there is incredibly human, which is likely what makes Michael gasp in recognition.

“You’re of John Winchester’s bloodline,” Michael murmurs.

“Yeah. So?” Jude asks defiantly.

“Jude,” Castiel says quietly, but it’s enough for her to stow the blade she holds and to take a step back.

“I must say, you piqued my interest by even showing up here,” Michael says. “It does get mind-numbingly droll in this box. But I hope I don’t sound too eager when I say that I am dying to know why you two, of all beings, have come for my help.”

Castiel trades glances with Jude, takes a deep breath, and speaks.

* * *

Castiel doesn’t know how much time has passed since they entered the Cage, but when they finally emerge, the day has melted away into dusk. It’s just as well, for even this amount of light makes the pupils of Michael’s vessel dilate. His face is impassive, though, as he takes in the sight of the Winchester brothers, leaning up against the Impala. Dean is so stiff, it’s like he hasn’t moved an inch since Castiel and Jude went through the portal.

The door shuts behind them with a slurping sound not unlike a drain. Castiel urges Michael onwards with a small tug of the arm he grips. Jude holds the other just as tightly, though in all likelihood it’s probably unnecessary for them to restrain him. The Enochian handcuffs around his wrists are more than enough to contain the feeble strength he has left.

“Well?” Dean prompts, his voice slightly hoarse, like he hasn’t used it in hours. Knowing Dean, he probably hasn’t.

“He’ll do it,” Castiel says, his own voice gravelly as usual.

* * *

The ride back to the bunker is one of the more uncomfortable silences that Castiel has experienced, and he’s lived for millennia. Dean keeps glancing in the back seat through the rearview mirror so many times, it’s almost a wonder that he doesn’t drive them off the road. “Almost,” because Castiel would prevent that, of course. Sam drums a nervous, uneven rhythm on his leg with his fingers. If Dean weren’t been so preoccupied, Castiel thinks he would have yelled at Sam to stop long beforehand. Jude leans back in her seat, arms crossed, staring out the window but looking at nothing in particular. Castiel doesn’t know what Michael would do, if he had the freedom to look around. They blindfolded him before Dean had even let him in the car.

It isn’t until Michael is chained in the bunker’s basement that Sam finally removes the blindfold. Michael blinks, eyes adjusting to the light, as he takes in the scene before him. He looks almost disappointed that there is no one new before him. Castiel thinks it was a good call to keep the others away from this Michael. He only told Michael the bare minimum of why they needed his grace. “To heal a sick friend,” were his exact words. Castiel doesn’t think any of the Winchesters would be opposed to his omission. Something tells him that Michael wouldn’t have agreed if he’d known Jack’s parentage, even if Jack himself is nothing like Lucifer.

“Cas tell you the deal?” Dean asks. In the background, Sam begins to mess with spell ingredients. Jude leans against the wall, hidden from Michael’s peripheral vision.

“Yes,”Michael says, his tone somewhere between exasperation and boredom. “I release Adam’s soul, you remove a significant portion of my grace, I become nearly human. Eventually my grace replenishes. If I don’t attempt to restart the apocalypse, or align myself with my otherworldly counterpart, you don’t throw me back in the Cage. Did I get all of it?”

“Yeah. Good,” Dean says, taking a step back.

“First we need to speak to Adam,” Sam says, his voice a little gentler than Dean’s, but no less authoritative.

“I can arrange that.”

“Not so fast. We need to make sure that you won’t interrupt us,” Sam says, reaching for a bowl and paintbrush. Michael looks put off at this, but he allows Sam to unbutton his shirt without comment. He says nothing as Sam applies the paint to his chest. Once the sigil is complete, Sam steps back for a moment to check his work. He sets the bowl and brush down, looks once to Castiel for confirmation, and activates the spell. Michael gasps, head thrown back in pain or shock for a moment, and when he looks at them again, all trace of him is hidden.

“Sam? Dean?” Adam asks, like he’s unsure if they were real.

“Hey,” Sam says. Castiel thinks in any other situation, a human might have considered it underwhelming, or ‘lame,’ but what else could really be said?

“Am I—in hell?”

“No, not anymore. But Michael is still possessing you, for now.”

“What do you mean, ‘for now’?” Adam says, looking up at Sam like he’s insane.

“Michael has agreed to release your soul,” Sam starts.

“Something tells me there’s a ‘but’ in there,” Adam says when Sam doesn’t continue.

“Yeah,” Sam says, the corner of his mouth twitching into a dry smile.

“Michael would still need a vessel,” Castiel cuts in.

“You mean—me? Like my body?” Adam asks.

“Yes. He would remain in your body, but you would no longer be tied to it. Your soul would return to heaven,” Castiel explains.

“Is that even possible?” Adam asks, eyes wide. The hope in them nearly manages to overcome the permanently tortured look they hold.

“It worked for me. An archangel smote me, and the soul of my vessel, Jimmy, was released to heaven when I…well, exploded. After I was restored, I continued to use his form, with his consent, even though he is no longer here.”

“You’re not going to blow me up, are you?” Adam asks.

“No. Another sacrifice would be required of you,” Castiel says.

“You know…” Adam says slowly. “Normally, I think I would’ve argued with you. ‘Sacrifice’ doesn’t exactly paint a pretty picture. But at this point? Honestly? I just want out. Michael’s pretty much left me alone since Lucifer escaped, but if you’re offering me an out—I’m gonna take it. So whatever it is, lay it on me. I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asks him.

“Yeah. Just get it over with,” Adam replies. Before anyone else can move, he gasps, and looks down in disbelief to the sharp point of the angel blade protruding from his chest. Blood, bright and cherry red, blossoms from the spot. Adam looks up to the appalled faces of his half-brothers, who are just as taken aback as he is.

“Thank you,” he manages to whisper, through a trickle of blood, before his head collapses onto his chest.

Quick as it plunged through Adam’s heart, the blade is removed. Jude looks up impassively at the three men staring at her. When Castiel reaches to take the angel blade away, Jude doesn’t resist.

“Jude...why?” Dean asks, not bothering to hide his astonishment.

“It was his choice. And I didn’t want to burden any of you with the responsibility.”

“Do you think we wanted that for you?” Dean says, the residual shock overriding his indignation.

Jude shakes her head. “No. That’s why I didn’t ask.”

“Perhaps—you should wait outside,” Castiel suggests. Jude takes her leave without a backwards glance.

* * *

Later, when Castiel emerges from the dungeon, he is unsurprised to see Jude sitting on the floor across from the doorway. He made an effort to leave first for this very reason. Castiel didn’t expected to find her looking so vulnerable, however. With her knees bent, feet planted on the floor, arms loosely hugging her legs, she looks nothing like the fierce naphil Castiel saw in action before, and more like a child.

“Did it work?” Jude asks, meeting his eyes with a look of apprehension.

“We extracted Michael’s grace. He didn’t make it,” Castiel says softly.

“Adam?”

“In heaven,” Castiel answers. Jude nods once, then gets up, and walks away.


	21. Happiness is a Warm Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jude pauses with her hand hovering over the plate. “What’s wrong with you? You look like you just won a free trip to Disneyland or something.”

_“When I hold you in my arms_

_And when I feel my finger on your trigger_

_I know nobody can do me no harm”_

Sam isn’t sure how late—or early—it actually is when he begins to feel how fatigued he really is from the past couple of days. Most of the heavy lifting hadn’t really been on him, except for extracting Michael’s grace. Sam didn’t meant to extract all of it, and Castiel reassured him that he hadn’t. Cas claimed that Michael didn’t want to survive. Maybe the angel was right. Sam runs his fingers through his hair and tries to brush his thoughts away as well. He can feel guilty later. Right now he needs to be happy for Jack.

After a few false starts, Jack finally manages to make a pencil levitate. The look of absolute pride on his face rivals the one he made the day Cas came home to the bunker after being in the Empty. Still, the simple act wore him out, and he promises Cas and the others that he would rest for now and try again later. It’s not long after everyone shares a few beers that Jack starts to nod off. Sam and Mary have to practically force him into bed. Afterwards, Sam goes in search of Dean, but can’t find him or Cas anywhere. Sam is too tired to care, so he wanders back to his room and flops face down onto his bed, promptly falling asleep. For the first time in months, Sam’s sleep is peaceful.

A few hours later, Sam wakes up, and he wouldn’t bother to get out of bed if he weren’t been so hungry. He squints over at his phone on his nightstand, which tells him that it’s a little after six in the morning. Sam groans, rolls over, and makes himself get out of bed. On his way to the kitchen, he knocks on Dean’s door. When no one answers, Sam pushes the door open, and to his surprise he finds an empty room. Sam shrugs to no one but himself, closes the door, and meanders down to the kitchen.

He breathes in the scent of fresh coffee as he walks in the room. Jude sits at the table, wearing the same clothes as the night before. Sam raises an eyebrow at her. She says nothing, but pushes a plate of bacon in his direction in an invitation for him to share. Sam pours himself a cup of coffee before sitting down and snatching up a piece of bacon.

“You make this?” he asks, after he’d munched on a bite of it.

“Yup,” Jude says, before taking a long sip of her coffee.

“So, last night. You wanna talk about it?” Sam prompts.

“Not really,” she says.

“Geez, you are not a morning person.”

“You just figuring this out now, Sasquatch?” Jude says, glaring at him over the rim of her mug. Sam laughs.

“Okay, okay. Point taken,” Sam says. “But whenever you feel like holding a civilized conversation—”

Jude flips him off, which is pretty impressive considering that she manages to hold onto her coffee cup at the same time.

“—despite the fact that you’re being a jerk, I’m here, if you want to talk,” Sam finishes.

Jude clears her throat. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

They sit in comfortable silence for the next few minutes, alternating between sipping their coffee and eating the bacon that Jude fried up. When there are only a few pieces left, Sam speaks up.

“Think we should save some for Dean?”

“If he’s still asleep, it’s his loss,” Jude says, but she doesn’t sound quite as grumpy as she did ten minutes ago.

“I actually don’t know where Dean is,” Sam comments.

“Have you checked his room?”

“No, the first place I looked was the dungeon,” Sam says. Jude makes a face at him. Well, at least she got Dean’s ability to understand sarcasm, he thinks.

“He might’ve gone out. I saw him go out to the garage last night,” Jude says.

“Hmm. Do you have your phone? I left mine in my room.”

“Nope.”

Sam heaves a sigh. “Guess I’ll go see if his car is here.”

“If you’re not back in fifteen minutes, I’m eating the rest of the bacon,” Jude calls after him.

* * *

Sam is so lost in his thoughts that it takes him a moment to register that the Impala is in the garage. It takes him another second for his brain to register that something smudged up against one of the back seat windows, leaving behind a blurry imprint on the glass. It’s so unlike Dean to let his Baby get any messes without cleaning them up right away. Curious, Sam pads over to the car, hoping that he won’t step on something while he’s only wearing socks. Sam wanders over to the side of the car that doesn’t have a smudgy window, since he can’t see through that one. He takes one glance, and freezes.

Before he can disturb the car’s occupants, Sam flees the garage, thankful that he didn’t turn on the overhead lights, and incredibly grateful that his stocking feet don’t cause him to wipe out on the floor. Sam shuts the door to the garage as quietly as he can, and when he starts back down the hallway, he can’t hide the ridiculous grin that covers his face. It takes all of his willpower not to let out a small _whoop!_ right then and there. 

* * *

“So? Can I eat the rest of the bacon?” Jude asks.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, sure, kid,” Sam answers, distractedly.

Jude pauses with her hand hovering over the plate. “What’s wrong with you? You look like you just won a free trip to Disneyland or something.”

“It’s nothing,” Sam says, trying to regain control of his facial features as he sits down in his chair.

“No, it’s something,” Jude says.

“It’s just—” Sam starts, but cut himself off when he realized who he’s having this conversation with.

“Yeah?” Jude prompts.

“Um...” Sam says. How is he supposed to say this delicately? Can he? “In your future...Dean and Cas weren’t ever...together, were they?”

“Well, since you know that Cas was sharing Dean’s vessel, I’m assuming that’s not what you mean,” Jude says, frowning in confusion.

“No...no, it’s really not,” Sam says, covering up a new smile with one hand and resting his elbow on the table.

“Sam?”

“Hmm?” he says, behind the hand over his mouth.

“What are you trying to say?” Jude asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Dean’s—um, he’s in the Impala,” Sam starts.

“Okay…” Jude trails off, with a blank look on her face.

“So is Cas.”

“Okay...and...?”

“It looks like they’ve been in there all night,” Sam finishes.

Jude gives him a blank look for a second.

“Wait, are you saying—?”

“I think so,” Sam says, not bothering to restrain the giddy look he feels bubbling up inside of him.

“And you’re sure?”

“Without going into specifics, yeah. I’m sure,” he answers, sitting back in his chair.

“Hm. Good for them,” Jude says, smiling. “And please, don’t give me any details. That’s just—grody.”

“Yeah. I can never unsee that,” Sam agrees.

A dark look appears on Jude’s face for a moment, like she’s considering something distasteful. “Oh crap, they weren’t in the middle of something, were they?”

“What? No, thank God. They were just—without clothes,” Sam explains.

“La la la la nope, not hearing this,” Jude says, with a small shake of her head. Sam is surprised that she doesn’t stick her fingers in her ears and squeeze her eyes shut.

“I think Dean was sleeping,” Sam says, trying to reassure her.

“Oh. Well, that’s not too bad,” Jude says. “Still don’t wanna picture it.”

“Me neither.” Sam pauses. “I’m happy for them though. It’s taken them long enough.”

“I kinda had a feeling,” Jude says, with a small smile.

“This is good for you too, right?” Sam asks.

“What do you mean?” she asks in return.

“Well, in your future, they’d never hooked up, right?” he clarifies.

“Ew. Parent sex. Just—yuck,” Jude says, nearly gagging visibly. “And no, not as far as I know. They didn’t give me every memory before I left, but I’m sure that one of them would have given me some kind of a hint if they’d ever been a thing. Hopefully something with a PG rating, you know?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. But that’s kind of my point.”

“What is?” Jude asks.

“Something’s happened here that didn’t happen in your future. Something major,” Sam says, through a broad grin.

“Jack being healed?”

Sam waves a hand dismissively. “Well yeah, that too.”

“Are you trying to say that Dean and Cas hooking up...means that my future won’t end up happening?” Jude asks, speaking slowly.

“I don’t know for certain. But it seems like a good sign, right?” Sam replies.

“Yeah, sure,” Jude agrees, dropping her eyes back down to her coffee. A thought pops into Sam’s head at her gesture.

“Do you ever think about what’ll happen to you once this is all over?” Sam says, his voice soft but still clear.

“No, not really. Why, do you?” she asks, not meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, kinda. I mean, it’s not like you’ll just disappear on us, right?” Sam says, visibly enthused. “If you don’t exist, then there’s no reason for you to have come back in time. And if you never come back in time, then you never alter events, and if you don’t alter events, then your timeline still ends up happening, or some version of it, anyway. And chances are you’d still end up being born.”

“Okay, I’m going to need something stronger than coffee unless you get to your point soon,” Jude says, staring at him like an angry cat whose fur was rubbed the wrong way.

“It’s a paradox, Jude,” he explains patiently. “You can’t just cease to exist. Once this is all done, you could have a life here.”

“I never really thought of it that way,” Jude admits. She sits, lost in her thoughts for a moment, before speaking again.

“Hey Sam? D’you think that this can actually be done? That there really is an end?”

“Yeah. Don’t you?” Sam says earnestly.

“I guess if I didn’t, I never would’ve come back in the first place,” Jude concedes.

“Makes sense,” he agrees.

“Truth is, Sam, if there’s an end, we’re a long way to it. And between you and me, I never expected to make it out of this alive,” Jude says, the honesty in her words echoed in the depths of her eyes.

“You don’t mean that,” Sam protests.

“I do,” Jude insists. “If it comes down to my life versus my family’s...I know which one I’ll choose. I’ll do anything to make sure that Dean and Cas make it out of this life. And you, and Mary, and everyone else too.”

In that moment, Sam can’t decide if Jude reminded him more of his brother or the angel. It reassures him for an instant before the words sink in, and they chill him to the bone. What will happen when the vessel of Dean’s headstrong recklessness and Castiel’s unwavering loyalty finally confront the monster it was destined—and chose—to fight?


	22. If I Fell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tell me something I don’t know, Cas,” Dean snapped back. They’d been down this road so many fucking times before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blatantly stole from myself with this chapter and posted it as a separate work by the same name. But that one describes the sex. 
> 
> P.S. This chapter is in the past tense because it technically happened before the last chapter?

_“If I trust in you, oh please_

_Don't run and hide_

_If I love you too, oh please”_

They had been arguing, again, about Castiel and Jude going to rescue Adam. Finally, Dean had gotten up and stormed out of the room. He couldn’t have this conversation again, not when it was over and done with now. Not when it meant that Jack was healed and Adam was finally at peace, and there wasn’t another Michael wandering about. Dean walked off and didn’t stop until he was in the garage, not even bothering to turn on the main lights. He didn’t have his keys, they were still in his room, but he didn’t have the need for that kind of escape right now. Just a couple minutes of privacy with his Baby would do the trick. Cas wouldn’t let him have it, though.

“Dean Winchester, you are the most infuriating man that I have ever encountered,” Castiel practically growled at him, the second after he’d zapped himself out to the dimly-lit garage with Dean.

“Tell me something I don’t know, Cas,” Dean snapped back. They’d been down this road so many fucking times before.

“How about I start with the things you _should_ know, but chose to ignore anyways?”

“Whatever makes ya feel good, Cas,” Dean said, forcing his face into an expression he hoped resembled boredom.

“You know that it irritates me when you do that. When you block yourself off from ever admitting a genuine _feeling_ , until you’re pushed over the edge and you end up letting something slip. And you know that whenever you finally, finally say something, that I believe you. For better or worse, I believe you. You know that when you say those things, I know that you mean them. With all your heart. With all your soul.”

“You sound bitchier than Sam, do you know that?” Dean asked, purposefully not saying anything specific in response to Cas’ words.

Cas gripped the collar of Dean’s shirt tight and pushed him back against the Impala so quickly that Dean forgot to breathe for a second. When he regained his breath, Dean could smell the slight scent of fabric softener and old books, and something more, warm and rich as honey and powerful as ozone, that seemed to radiate from Castiel himself.

“You know what you’re doing,” Cas continued. “You know that you’re being snarky instead of just saying something, anything. You know that if you keep this up long enough, that I’ll eventually give up and let you wander off to drink yourself to sleep. But here’s what you don’t know: I’m not letting you do that tonight.”

“Oh, really?” Dean said, trying and failing to not meet Cas’ eyes. There was no hope after he did that, there never was.

“Yes, Dean. You said to tell you something that you don’t know, and that’s what you’re going to get. You know how I fell, for _you_ , Dean, but did you know that I fell for you in more ways than one? And did you know that it was long before I defied my orders that I had begun to fall? The moment I laid my hand on you in hell—that’s when it started. The exact moment that I reached out and touched your soul. That’s when I fell, Dean—for _you_ , Dean. Not for _humanity_ , or for _justice_ , or for free will. For you.”

Dean couldn’t respond. Cas’ words shook him all the way to his core. For years, there had been hints of this. The jokes that others made about them. The side eyes and knowing glances from Sam. When Dean had the Mark of Cain and Cas had told him that he would still be there for him long after he watched the rest of the world burn. When Cas had been hit with that damned lance, and he was dying, and Cas had said, “I love you. I love all of you,” and Dean didn’t stop to think if Cas meant anything specific, he’d just cared that Cas was dying. And then later, when Lucifer actually did kill Cas; later, when Dean had prayed for Cas to not really be dead, when he would have given anything to have Cas back. When Cas returned from the Empty, and Dean was so happy to have his friend, his angel back…But in all of those times and in dozens more, neither had actually said the words, crossed over the point of no return.

“You really are the most infuriating man, Dean Winchester,” Castiel said again, but the growl in his voice had shifted. There was less anger, and yet something...more.

“But you still fell,” Dean said, his voice low and husky. It was an invitation; Cas could acknowledge it or ignore it as he chose.

“Yes,” the angel answered. “And given the choice, I would do it all over again. For you.”

There was only the slightest fraction of a second before Dean responded. The choice to act was easy. Too often had it been placed before him and he had not taken it. Too often had he thought about it, and never acted upon it. But here, now, the choice was easy. Cas still had a grip on Dean’s shirt. He was still just inches away from Dean’s face. So Dean placed a hand behind Cas’ neck, pulling him in enough to close the gap between them. It wasn’t until Dean’s lips were on Castiel’s that Dean’s brain had time to catch up to what he was doing.

The kiss couldn’t have lasted more than a second, but Dean froze and pulled away the instant he realized that Castiel’s eyes hadn’t closed like Dean’s had, how Cas’ lips hadn’t moved to press back against Dean’s. For one horrible, gut-wrenching moment, Dean thought that he had made the worst mistake of his life. He took one glance into Cas’ impossibly blue eyes, pupils wide with shock, but also with a profound sense of _want_. Still, it wasn’t until Cas’ lips were pressed against his, this time in full force, that Dean realized that this wasn’t a mistake. It was something long overdue.

Cas’ kiss was nothing like the tentative one that Dean had given. He pressed into Dean like it meant his life, mouth working in time with Dean’s, faster and deeper. Dean let his teeth nip ever so slightly at Cas’ bottom lip, and Cas shuddered even further into their embrace. Cas’ tongue, warm and sweet, probed gently at Dean’s lips. He parted them without hesitation, letting Cas lick into his mouth and caress Dean’s tongue. Dean still had his hand behind Cas’ neck, but his fingers had trailed upwards to twine into the soft black curls at the base of his head. He tugged at Cas’ hair, just enough to let him know that _yes_ , this was good.

Eventually their kissing slowed, became languid and even sweeter as their lips drew back from full pressure to the softest whisper of touch. Cas rested his forehead against Dean’s, and they remained there for a moment, letting their pulses settle and listening to the sound of each other breathing.

“I fell for you too, Cas,” Dean said, just loud enough to be heard. “A long, long time ago.”

* * *

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?” he murmured sleepily against Cas’ shoulder. How they had ended up laying front to back on the back seat, Cas’ arm around Dean’s waist, he didn’t remember. And he didn’t care. Dean also wasn’t entirely sure how they could fit on the seat, but his brain was too pleasantly fuzzy to question it. Cas had probably done some kind of mojo. Dean didn’t care; he was too comfortable to care.

“Was that—good?” Cas asked, hesitantly.

“Hell yes,” he said with a slight chuckle. When Cas didn’t respond, Dean realized that he and Cas weren’t on the same wave length.

“Cas? What is it?” Dean asked, raising his head and twisting slightly to face him better.

“I’ve wanted this for so long...so long that I don’t even remember realizing that it was what I wanted,” Cas said, looking at Dean through his dark lashes.

“Well, I am a good-looking guy, if I do say so myself,” Dean said, in an attempt at a joke.

“No, it’s not that, Dean. It’s not _sex_ that I wanted,” Cas tried to explain.

“Then what was it?”

“You,” he replied, blue eyes shining earnestly.

“You’re so sappy, Cas,” Dean said, intending to be snarky, but failing epically as the corners of his mouth turned upwards in a genuine smile.

“What?” Cas asked, adorably confused.

“Sappy. You know, like in a chick flick or a romance novel,” Dean explained, not even cringing internally that he had just thought Cas to be adorable.

“Is that bad?” Cas said, genuinely worried. He knew how Dean typically reacted to those moments.

Dean paused. “Normally, I’d say yeah, but with you...it's different. You’re not trying to be all mushy or anything. You’re just saying whatever pops into your head like you usually do.”

“And is that good?”

“Yeah, Cas. It’s good,” he said, the arm around Cas’ tightening in reassuring pressure. He laid his head back down, closing his eyes and breathing in the faint smell of honey. Of his angel. Of Castiel.

They laid in silence for a moment before Dean spoke again. His voice was quiet, but it rang with truth.

“I ain’t ever letting you go, Cas. Not ever. You’re mine. And I’ve been yours from the moment you dragged me out of the pit. And nothing, and I mean nothing, is ever gonna change that. I ain’t ever letting you go.”


	23. Helter Skelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why the fuck,” Dean mutters to no one in particular, “do things never go according to plan?”

_“Well do you, don't you want me to make you?_

_I'm coming down fast but don't let me break you_

_Tell me, tell me, tell me your answer”_

“Why the _fuck_ ,” Dean mutters to no one in particular, “do things never go according to plan?”

It’s bad enough that Michael, incessant douchebag that he is, discovered that his counterpart from this world had been freed from the cage. It was worse when Michael abandoned the traps he set for hunters and decided to plan one final ambush for the Winchesters. It’s even worse that Jody and Claire didn’t managed to get the spear from Bad Kaia, so all they had to kill Michael was an archangel blade. None of that is what’s causing the bile in Dean’s stomach to rise and nearly make him ill from terror right now. No, it’s the fact that it looks like things were turning out exactly like they did in Jude’s future.

Dean crouches behind a stack of crates, gun in hand. He doubts that the silver bullets would really do much good against Michael’s cronies: beheading or smiting seemed to be the only thing that really put the asshats down. But he can’t just dick around and do nothing, right? Even if all he can do was try and draw the monsters’ attention away from his family.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” he swears, as one of the freaky-ass werewolves wheels around, snarling, and charges towards him. Apparently his bullets pissed it off enough to make it come after him. It is what Dean intended, but he didn’t expected the beast to charge him _that_ quickly. With almost no warning, Dean finds himself pinned to the ground, about to become werewolf chow.

 _“Cas!”_ he prays with all his might.

Dean doesn’t know if it was instinct, or if someone actually told him to shut his eyes, but he does as soon as he hears the faint sound of Castiel’s wings, distinct against the din of the fight all around them. There’s a flash of light from beyond Dean’s eyelids, and the gnashing of teeth above him cease. The weight of the beast was lifts off of him before it can totally collapse on top of him, and Dean feels Cas grip him tight and raise him to his feet.

A small squeeze on his left shoulder tells Dean that it was safe to open his eyes again. He finds himself staring directly into Cas’ eyes. Just like a thousand and one times before, they don’t speak. Their expressions say enough. A flurry of movement from beyond Castiel’s shoulder distracts Dean, and he shoves the angel behind him as he sees who has finally entered the fray. It doesn’t matter if Dean’s own eyes were one hundred percent human; he could still see Michael from beyond the glint in his vessel’s eyes. Someone else said _yes_ to Michael, just like in Jude’s future. Just like Dean feared.

Michael comes straight for Dean and Castiel, pushing other hunters and monsters in his path away with the force of his grace as he barrels towards them. Dean holds on tight to Cas’ wrist, preventing his angel from moving to meet Michael. Cas could easily break Dean’s grasp, but he doesn’t. Deep down, he knows that it would be futile to prevent Dean from letting any harm befall him.

As Dean and Cas are flung against the wall, and Michael chokes them Darth Vader-style, Dean wonders if maybe he shouldn’t have held Castiel back. But then a sudden force nearly knocks Michael over, and Dean and Cas slide back down the wall. Dean crumples to the floor before Cas hauls him back to his feet again. He looks up, and sees Jack throwing every bit of his new mojo at the archangel. For a moment, it looks like Jack has the upper hand, until Michael pushes back and sends Jack careening backwards, arms flailing as he tries to remain upright. Dean swears. He knew that Jack wasn’t strong enough yet to face Michael, but what choice did they really have at the time?

“My new vessel might not be the perfect match for me,” Michael says in a stranger’s voice, “but it is a strong one. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Dean finds himself pressed back against the wall again, helpless as a bug on flypaper. Castiel is no match for Michael’s powers either, even with his newfound strength. All he can do is twitch his fingers close enough to barely brush them against Dean’s.

“You and your stolen grace are no match for me, naphil,” Michael says, purring nonchalantly at his revelation.

“Go to hell,” Jack spits, through a mouthful of blood. His irises glow futilely gold as he attempts to resist Michael’s hold on him.

Michael laughs. “Not my cup of tea.”

Jack is about to say something else, but his words are cut off by Sam and Mary rushing into the warehouse. The pair has just enough time to take in the sight of dead or unconscious bodies of hunters and monsters alike, before they catch sight of Michael and his prisoners. Both Sam and Mary reach for angel blades, but before they can reach them, Michael waves one hand and sends them flying backwards. Michael really has a thing for flinging people through the air, Dean thinks abstractly, as he waits with bated breath for his mother and brother to get up.

“This is just too good,” Michael says. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start with me,” Dean says. Next to him, Cas makes a strangled sort of sound like he was going to protest, but he never gets the words out.

“I knew I should have killed you before I dumped your suit,” Michael says, nostrils flared in either disgust or anger. "You're more troublesome than you're worth."

Dean wills his eyes not to screw shut as Michael charges towards him. He focuses on the light touch of Castiel’s fingertips to brace himself against the inevitable. Michael reaches out a hand as he approaches, but Dean never finds out what for. Some force hits Michael in the back of his head, forcing him to his knees and loosening his hold on Dean, Cas, and Jack just slightly. Castiel’s hand slips farther into Dean’s before Michael regains control.

“Not gonna happen, you son of a bitch,” a voice says.

Dean gasps at the same time that Michael turns around to face Jude. He expected it to be Sam or Mary, but Michael is holding them frozen in place as well. Every fiber of Dean’s being protests at Jude being here, wanting his daughter to be safe and as far the hell away from this evil dick as possible, even though he knows that this was her decision.

“Well, well. Who do we have here? Or rather, _what_ do we have here?” Michael asks, his face calm, but the buzz of anger seeping through his composed tone.

“My name is Jude Winchester.”

“Winchester? As in—” Michael says, gesturing at Dean.

“The very same, chuckles,” Jude says, jutting her chin in defiance.

“Ah. Yes, I can see the resemblance,” Michael says dryly. “Same inept sense of humor.”

“Maybe. But one major difference,” she says.

“Oh?” Michael baits.

One second, Jude stands there, brown eyes fierce, but so human that Dean’s heart leaps in fear at the sight of her before Michael. The next, there’s a crack of thunder, and Jude’s irises burn so brightly gold that it makes the shine Jack’s eyes had seem a dull bronze. The dark outline of outspread wings are visible against the warehouse’s bare walls. Combined with her leather jacket and blood-spattered jeans, Jude looks positively badass. There’s no other word for it. Dean’s heart still beats out a loud thumping rhythm, but now it’s more from adrenaline than fear. The electric power that seems to emanate from Jude raises the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck, but he’s no longer frightened. She’s not in any danger. Michael is.

“How is it that the child of Dean Winchester is a naphil?” Michael asks once the thunder subsides. Only the expression in his eyes belies how unsettled he is.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Jude says.

“You’re not from this time, are you?” 

“Nope. I’m from the future.”

“Are you mine, then?” Michael asks, with curiosity. “Do I get my old suit back?”

“Hell no,” Jude spits.

“Then…?”

“Castiel.”

Michael laughs. “Oh, he does love humanity. How many times has he fallen? And in how many ways?”

“It doesn’t matter, asshat. That’s not why I’m here.”

“So why are you here? What now? We spar? Fight to the death?” Michael says, irritation seeping through, his own eyes burning a cool angelic blue. Dean’s muscles tense, waiting for the inevitable death match to begin.

“Is that what you want?” Jude asks, head titled ever-so-slightly.

Michael, utterly taken aback, turns the question back on her.

“Is that what _you_ want?”

“I never wanted to fight you; only stop you,” Jude confesses.

Michael’s eyes widen, and Dean knows that his do the same. Out of all the possibilities for this confrontation, he never would have expected this. Cas’ hand spasms, his grip tightening on Dean's, and Dean knows that Cas had expected her to fight too. Dean is at a loss for what she’s going to do, but a creeping sensation in the pit of his stomach says that Jude is going to do something stupid. Something reckless. Something only a Winchester would think was a bright idea.

“Stop me how?” Michael asks her.

“Ask me what I want. What I really want, above anything else,” Jude says, voice quiet compared to Michael’s raised tone.

“What do you want?” Michael asks, and Dean is surprised to hear a note of genuine sincerity in his voice.

“I want my family to live. I want them to be safe, and happy. I don’t want you to hurt them,” Jude says earnestly. The steel in her voice has been stripped away slightly from raw emotion. Dean feels the corners of his own eyes prickle with tears he refuses to let fall.

“You speak your truth,” Michael says. “I just don’t see why I should care.”

“You know what I am. You can sense my power. Imagine what you could be capable in a vessel like mine—untarnished, like the one you have now. I’m Dean Winchester’s blood; I can be your Sword too. And my vessel is a thousand times stronger than any you’d ever known,” Jude says, raising her arms as if in invitation.

“Jude—no!” Dean yells, his fury breaking through his fear. Michael waves a hand idly behind him, and Dean falls silent as an invisible gag is placed on his mouth.

“Are you offering yourself to me?” Michael asks, incredulous and covetous all at the same time.

Jude nods. “But only if you let them go.”

“Why should I believe you? Why should I think even for a millisecond that your offer is genuine? That you won’t try to fight me like your father did?” Michael asks, but Dean knows that Michael is already sold on her idea.

“Because I have everything to gain from you sparing their lives, and I’ll have nothing to lose if you don’t," Jude responds.

“They truly mean that much to you?”

“Yes," she says.

“Then...we have an arrangement,” Michael says. “Do you offer yourself up to me, wholly and unconditionally, as my vessel?”

“As long as you let my family live—and I mean all of them, past, present, future.”

“I swear that I will not attack them.”

“Or kill them,” Jude insists.

Michael inclines his head. “Not unless it were the very last resort.”

“Then...yes,” Jude says, voice barely above a whisper.

Michael slides his archangel blade out from his sleeve. Dean can only look on in horror as he slices his blade across his right palm. Jude repeats the motion with the angel blade she carries, tossing it aside with a loud _clang_ as it hits the floor. Michael stretches out his hand, and Jude takes it, their hands grasping together for one heavy moment. Dean’s heart thuds against his ribs. Michael smirks, then tilts his head back, mouth open, his grace rushing upwards in a sinister blue-white spiral.

In the blink of an eye, Jude jerks Michael’s vessel close enough with their conjoined hands that she can lunge for his archangel blade. Just before her head is forced backwards and Michael’s grace begins to possess her, the archangel blade is in both of Jude’s hands. Her head snaps upright. Jude’s irises go from deep brown, to gold, to angelic blue. But in the split second before Michael takes complete control of her, Jude plunges the archangel blade inwards. Whitish-blue light streams from her eyes and mouth. Dean thinks he hears her scream, or maybe it’s him. Jude falls to the ground, like a puppet released from its strings, all trace of Michael banished from the earth save the charred outline of his wings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure whether to apologize or laugh evilly.


	24. Let It Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If there was anything you could do to save her...would you do it?” Cas asks, his words almost hesitant.

_"And when the night is cloudy_

_There is still a light that shines on me_

_Shine on till tomorrow_

_Let it be”_

“I don’t matter,” Jude says; an echo of something Dean said in one of his lesser moments. “Just let me go.”

“No—no, Jude,” Dean responds. He cradles her damaged form to him, careful not to jostle the archangel blade too much.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, through a trickle of blood, a perverse echo of the dying Castiel from the memories of her future. A giant _screw you_ from the universe, as the death and the fate Jude tried to prevent fall upon her instead.

Someone sobs. Dean thinks it might be him. His vision blurs, eyes hot and wet. Everything around him moves as if in a deep fog, the swirl of sounds and images unable to pierce through the haze of his torment.

* * *

“Can you fix her?” is the first thing Dean says to Cas, once they’re back in the bunker. Dean holds their daughter to him still, despite the narrow hospital-style bed. Cas places one hand over the spot where the blade had pierced her, just between her lower ribs. Cas' grace flows through him, quelling the spread of blood and sealing the ugly wound.

“Dean…”

“No, Cas, say you can fix her. Say that you can save her, _please_ …”

“Too much of her grace was...damaged...when she killed Michael.”

“Cas, what are you saying to me, man?”

“I am saying that she doesn’t have enough grace to heal herself. Just like Jack.”

“Is she gonna die?” Dean whispers, going numb at the answer he already knows.

“Yes. Soon, probably. A few hours, I would guess. She is more gravely injured than Jack had been when his grace was taken.”

“How can you be so cold, Cas?”

“I can assure you, I am not.”

Dean snorts. Cas takes him by surprise, clutching tightly at his left shoulder. Dean gasps when the connection allows him to feel the extent of Castiel’s pain. Apparently when angels allow themselves to feel, they feel deeply. Intensely. Infinitely.

“I can ease her pain,” Cas murmurs, touching two fingers lightly to Jude’s forehead.

“What can I do?” Dean asks, feeling utterly helpless.

“What you’re doing now. Be there for her. Talk to her,” Cas suggests.

Dean is at a loss as to what to say, but he feels compelled to speak. To say something, anything, to the broken girl in his arms. Before it’s too late to say anything at all.

“Hey, Jude...” Dean starts. And it hits him.

 _“Hey Jude. Don’t make it bad,”_ Dean sings, a little hesitantly. Cas looks over at him quizzically.

 _“Take a sad song, and make it better,”_ Dean continues, not caring what Cas thinks about him singing. _“Remember, to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better.”_

Dean sings the second verse as smoothly as he can, trying to force down the hitch in his chest or the tears threatening to break free.

_“And anytime you feel the pain…”_

Dean’s words are cut off by a lump in his throat, unable to ignore any longer the fact that Jude is dying. He was reluctant of her presence when she first arrived, but now that he’s losing her, Dean regrets every second he never got to spend with his daughter.

 _“Hey Jude, refrain,”_ Castiel sings, voice deep and not quite in tune, but oddly soothing. _“Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders.”_

 _“For well you know that’s it’s a fool, who plays it cool...”_ the hunter and the angel sing together. They continue, Cas carrying the song when it’s too much for Dean, and Dean helping Cas stumble through the words. He idly wonders where Cas learned the song, or when. Their voices seem to compliment each other; not perfect by any means, but well-matched. They finish the song as Jude begins to slip into a finite unconsciousness.

“Dean?” Cas asks, voice soft.

“Yeah?” he says, gruffly.

“If there was anything you could do to save her...would you do it?” Cas asks, his words almost hesitant.

“You know I would,” Dean whispers.

“Even if it cost you?”

“That’s what you do for family, Cas.”

“The ones you love?”

“Yes,” Dean says, a single tear finally breaking free.

Dean gets one glimpse of Cas’ mournful expression, before he pats Dean’s shoulder briefly, and with a flap of his invisible wings, Cas is gone.

* * *

Dean doesn’t know how much longer it is before Cas returns with Sam. Time has lost its meaning. Jude’s shallow, anguished breathing seems to last hours, but with every tick of the clock, her life slips farther and farther away. Dean is oblivious to everything but the girl in his arms while Sam and Cas speak in hushed voices. It isn’t until Cas nudges Dean lightly that he looks up at them. When he sees what Sam holds, Dean’s mouth goes dry.

“Cas—no, you can’t—”

“I can,” he says.

“But—”

“It’s what you do for family,” Castiel insists, repeating Dean’s earlier words.

“But—” Dean tries to protest again.

“I’ve already made my decision,” the angel says, firmly.

“I can’t lose you too, Cas.”

“You won’t. But I won’t let you lose your daughter. And I can’t lose her either,” he says.

Before Dean can argue further, Cas touches a hand to his forehead, and everything goes black. The last thing he registers is the cold metal of the headboard against his back, and Jude being pulled from his grasp.

* * *

Dean wakes in a hospital bed, alone. The air is still in a way that only happens in the dead of night. Dean sits up, panicking, until his eyes adjust to the darkness around him, and he catches sight of the sleeping form of the person on the bed next to his. He scrambles to his feet, only noticing that he isn’t wearing his boots when his socks slip on the cold tile. Dean comes to a halt when he realizes that the person in the bed isn’t Jude. It’s Cas.

His angel is curled over on his side, facing Dean. His suit, tie, and trench coat aregone. From the looks of it, he dressed himself in one of Dean’s old t-shirts. Cas shivers slightly, and Dean instinctively pulls the sheet back over Castiel. He must have kicked it off at some point, and even the ratty sweatpants Cas wear aren’t warm enough for this room. Dean sits in the chair next to Cas’ bed, wondering why the angel is sleeping. Wondering where Jude is. And then it hits him. Dean lowers his head on the edge of Cas’ bed, cradled in his folded arms, and lets exhaustion and grief overwhelm him. When Dean wakes again, his cheeks are covered in the now-dry echoes of salty tears that fell hard and fast.

* * *

“Why?” is the first thing Dean asks Cas when he wakes. Not if he’s alright, or how he’s feeling. Why.

“You know why,” Cas whispers.

“Cas...”

“Jude’s grace came from mine. Hers healed me once. Now mine has healed hers.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you did it,” Dean says.

“I didn’t want you to have to experience her death,” Cas says. “Just as much as I wanted her to live for my own reasons.”

“Cas, please tell me you didn’t do this for me.”

“I did, Dean. I would do anything for you.”

“But I’m—” he starts, but Cas stops him before he can say that he’s nothing, that he isn’t worth it.

“You’re _everything_ to me, Dean. I don’t regret any of this. And I will regain my strength in time.”

“You’re so stubborn, Cas.”

“You would know,” the angel says, the ghost of a smile on his face. “I love you anyways.”

“I love you too, Cas,” he whispers, letting loose the words he’s held back for too damn long.


	25. Epilogue: In My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m gonna get you a bell,” Dean grumbles. Jude laughs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After all that angst, I couldn't resist a fluffy ending. Enjoy!

_"Though I know I'll never lose affection_

_For people and things that went before_

_I know I'll often stop and think about them_

_In my life I love you more”_

**_Five years later_ **

“Winchester Auto.”

 _“Wow, Dean. So professional,”_ comes his brother’s voice from the other end of the line.

“Sammy,” he says, breaking into a grin. “What’s up?”

_“Just wanted to tell you that I’ll be able there a few days earlier that I expected, if that’s alright with you.”_

“Yeah? That’s great. What happened to your hunt?”

 _“Your daughter made it unnecessary,”_ Sam says grumpily.

“Did she now?” Dean asks. He has an idea of what Sam is going to say, but he lets his brother get it off his chest regardless.

_“Yes, she did. She showed up out of nowhere—I have no idea how she found me. Then she burned the entire hoard of ghouls out before I even got near them.”_

“Good for her. Probably saved your ass, too,” Dean smirks.

_“Yeah, yeah, she’s awesome. I know.”_

“Aren’t you a little old to be getting pissy about things like this, Samantha?”

_“Shut up, Dean. I haven’t been on a real, honest-to-God hunt in ages, and Jude up and takes care of it all in the blink of an eye. I swear she did this on purpose, too!”_

“Yeah...that’s kind of my fault.”

_“What?”_

“It’s...it’s my Christmas present, alright?” Dean rushes, feeling a bit of a blush rise in his cheeks. “Jude asked me what she should get me, and I said I didn’t need anything, I just wanted all of you guys to be here.”

_“Aw...”_

“Shut up, Sammy.”

_“Alright, alright. I’ll be there tomorrow evening. That work for you guys?”_

“Yeah. Cas will be thrilled.”

The brothers say their goodbyes, and Dean dives back into the guts of the Mustang he’s working on. He only slightly lied to his brother when he said that he didn’t need anything for Christmas. True, he’s only just gotten used to spending the holiday as an actual holiday, but that doesn’t stop the corny feeling he gets when he thinks that he can’t actually come up with anything to ask for.

Sam runs the Men of Letters bunker now—he’s officially the “new Bobby” these days. He’s in the game, but not right in the thick of it. It’s perfect for him. Maybe someday soon he’ll get around to making things serious with that linguistics professor he’s had his eye on. She’s no Jess, or even Eileen, but the woman’s helped with enough cases now that she would understand Sam’s past. As for Mary—she’ll never slow down. Dean worries about her hunting from time to time, but not too much. Half the time, Jack and Jude are with her. Together, the pair is unstoppable. Dean can’t figure out what they are to each other, exactly. Cas assumes the most innocent situation, of course. They’re the only nephilim in the world, why wouldn’t they stick together? Dean keeps his thoughts to himself. If they ever make it official, he’ll still win a cool fifty bucks from Sam.

“What’s on your mind?”

Dean swears as he bumps his head on the frame of the Mustang. This car’s proving to be more troublesome than he thought, even though he’ll get a pretty penny for restoring her to her former glory.

“I’m gonna get you a bell,” Dean grumbles. Jude laughs.

“Did you speak to Sam?” she asks.

“Yeah. Dude practically chewed me out for you swooping in and finishing the case for him,” Dean answers.

“You’re welcome,” Jude says, with a roll of her eyes. “So. Ready for your other Christmas present?”

“Yeah. Let’s do this.”

“You sure it isn’t ‘cheating’?” Jude asks, air quotes and all.

“Would you just—you know—” Dean grumps, gesturing wildly with one hand.

“Alright, alright.” Jude pushes off from the edge of the Mustang and approaches Dean. He winces slightly in anticipation, but it’s surprisingly pleasant and painless when Jude works her mojo on him.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Jude confirms.

“Huh. Okay,” Dean says. “Thanks, kid. I mean it.”

“Happy to help.”

“Hey, you haven’t mentioned any of this to Cas, right?”

Jude raises an eyebrow at him. The look of disdain is enough of an answer.

“I’ll see you later, Dad,” she says, and whooshes off again to parts unknown.

* * *

A few hours later, when Dean is satisfied with the Mustang’s progress for now, he trudges into the house and finds Cas sitting at the kitchen table.

“Hey,” Dean says.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replies, beaming up at him over his mug of tea.

“How’re the bees?” Dean asks, bending down to place a kiss on Cas’ forehead. Actions like that seem so natural to him now, he wonders why they ever seemed so impossible to him.

“They seem content with the beehive covers I knitted for them. Hopefully they’ll get through the winter without any major issues,” Cas says happily.

“That’s great,” Dean says, as he tries to wash the grease and grime from his hands. He gives it his best effort, and when he turns around, toweling off his hands, he sees Cas staring at him pensively.

“Dean? Something on your mind?” Cas asks. Damn, even without most of his mojo, Cas can still see right through him.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, actually. I, uh, was kinda hoping to give you your Christmas present early,” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck unconsciously.

“Dean, you know you didn’t need to get me anything.”

“Don’t be a sap, Cas. Would you just—come get your damn present, alright?”

“Alright,” Cas agrees. He follows Dean into the living room, and stops dead short at the sight in front of him.

“Dean,” Cas breathes. His blue eyes are wide with wonder. “You got me a cat?”

“We were one species short,” Dean jokes, as he goes to unlatch the cat carrier. The cat peeks its head out, blue eyes bright against its inky fur. It catches sight of Cas, and heads straight towards him. Even without his powers, Cas still seems to have enough residual grace left to be extraordinary. Not that that made him who he was, though. Cas’ heart was exactly the way it had always been.

“Does she have a name?” Cas asks, scooping up the cat and cuddling it. She purrs, contentedly.

“Faith,” Dean says. “She’s a rescue, so I thought, you know.”

Cas smiles. “It’s perfect. But Dean—your allergies—”

“Consider it a Christmas present from our daughter,” Dean says.

“You did that for me?” Cas asks, blue eyes full of wonder.

“I’d do anything for you, angel,” Dean says, right before he kisses Cas senseless.

* * *

Snow falls, lightly and silently, outside the house that Dean and Cas share. Inside, they sit, warm and safe with their family. The firelight makes their wedding bands shine. The smile on Mary’s face as she unwraps a cookbook—a semi-joke gift from Sam—warms Dean right down to his core. Jude giggles, innocent and free, as she watches Jack take a sip of the eggnog she handed him. From his expression, it’s clearly been spiked. Dean catches Sam’s eye for a moment, and he knows that his brother remembers the time Sam did that to him. It feels like several lifetimes ago that the two of them celebrated what they thought would be their last Christmas together. And look at them now.

Dean subconsciously tightens his arm where it’s gripped around Cas’ shoulder. The little cat snoozes peacefully in Cas’ lap. Dean leans over to place a kiss on top of Cas’ hair. The days of him being embarrassed by displays of affection are long gone. Dean glances outside, watching the snow fall on the yard beyond. He’s glad that has a special place for the Impala in his garage for days with bad weather, but he tries not to put her up if he can help it.

It’s not just because the Impala has become the symbol for Winchester Auto. She doesn’t take too many cross-country trips these days. She goes on small excursions around town or on the occasional hunt, but she’s earned her retirement too. Every time Dean sees his Baby, he’s reminded of all the times she was his home, and it never fails to bring a smile to his face. But now his home is an actual house, with a yard and a kitchen and even a guest bedroom, with a cat that likes him for some inexplicable reason. And most importantly, there’s Cas. Their lives aren’t picture-perfect; how could it be, with all they’ve seen and done? But that doesn’t matter. Because at the end of the day, Dean has finally found his peace.


End file.
